Contempt
Fear
Pleasure
other people, like puddles on the surface of a glass carpet that I am trapped beneath.
words. what are words.
sometimes they're just that: pesky, wordy things.
"What are you doing love?"
"Chasing the dream, Ma. Chasing it with everything I've got."
"You're gonna have to wake up sometime, you know that love"
"But there ain't no dream when I'm awake."
I v-introduced you to the team today. V is for virtual. Virtual, that modifier on reality.
All it really means is that I thought through the introductions. Mentally imagined them. Now you virtually know everyone. My Sims version of everyone can go out to drinks or run into each other at corners and it wouldn't be weird.
Virtually, we're all friends.
Music made by other people. Especially if that music involves a guitar, and some Spaniards
The golden glow of windows, intensifying the deepening shadows.
The green, supple, grass of a north eastern summer.
Your voice (voi ici) on the answering machine, that many many years ago, warm and dancing.
Fireflies in the depths of tree shadows.
Words flowing through the brain, fluid and faint and deepening as the change in colors washing across the sky, high atop the shadows of tree tops.
Fade, to black.
some days I remember the lies you told me and i laugh at both of us at me, for wanting so badly to believe you at you, for having t...