Sunday, 8 July 2012
damp pavements at the end of the day lead down to smooth cobblestones and the fluctuating depths and sounds of the river. light glints on the uneven mirror of the water like something from a pointillist's dream. on the shores and islands hidden birds converse somewhere in green. small continents composing the whole. fingertips lightly brush and break the water, the light. there is, it seems, such little room outside the skin of memory ever expanding to fit more moments. watching my feet and my direction, i need more eyes. so many corners, street names, and flowers to learn, bridges to cross, maps to be made. in a month from now this will be home and the rivers and streets will be known, will be traced in my mind like the lines of the maps etched since birth in my palms.
Posted by cloudgathererholdmedown