there is a collapsing of lungs with sky when things don’t add up quite right, and the world is off whack and all of shadow. Sometimes you need to step back and say damndamndamn, and wonder where it all stopped, when it all started, and how everything twists around and strangles you and strangles you….
I remember reading Murakami’s South of the Border, West of the Sun and the whole bit about how, after thirty your life is like settling concrete, that everything settles in and chokes and destroys, and sometimes I want that again, I had that before, and I think– sometimes safety can be good and a world can be full of bramble thorns and the comfort can be good in that, I mean at my age I don’t need everything being wild and crazy and not knowing where I’m going to sleep in the next month to last month…
in a way it’s an adventure and it’s exciting, but it’s also petrifying. It’s like falling and flying up and down both at the same time, spinning through a void, looking to catch on, to catch my breath….
and sometimes I try
and sometimes I forget to breathe