Friday, March 11, 2011
perhaps it is that stupid new way facebook has of storing messages - you know, the one where you can see every correspondence you've ever had with someone in one long (seriously, novella-length) post? - which i (idiotically, and for no reason at all) decided to read through from the beginning. it felt like coming across a stack of old letters; like untying the faded ribbon, and unfolding each missive... i could almost see the handwriting, hear the rustle of the pages as they turned, one after the other. one great friendship i have has been conducted largely through fb chats and messages, and going back through it was lovely, in the makes-you-want-to-cry way--
or perhaps it is watching people's lives be shaken to dust and then carried away by the merciless and indifferent ocean--
or perhaps it is This Song by Ludovico Einaudi which is haunting in its quiet, beautiful devastation (something is not working right with posting video... boo) --
or perhaps it is the grey-white sky fast with clouds and the bare, just-beginning-to-bud trees raising their arms in supplication, and swaying a slow, mournful dance--
but whatever the reason, beauty or nostalgia, or woe, today the individual threads of my soul have begun to unravel... not entirely... but enough... and i will stand here, while this window frames my small view of the world, and i will be undone.