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the way the air feels
Feb. 8th, 2009 10:38 amUp until today, the air has been cold and sharp enough to cut your airways and lungs when you inhale. Today it's as soft as an old shirt that's been washed a million times--the kind of shirt that small children like rubbing their cheeks against. Being outside is like rubbing your cheek against something that soft.
... Those stones from last entry. Maybe instead of imagining them wandering this way and that, I should imagine the ice and the water and the wind playing a giant, incomprehensible game of checkers or chess or mancala or something with them. (What would the rules be? I can imagine the wind and ice trying to teach me, but geologic logic might be beyond me.) The stones may be the pawns of the wind and the ice, but perhaps now and then one or another rebels and moves about on its own.
... Those stones from last entry. Maybe instead of imagining them wandering this way and that, I should imagine the ice and the water and the wind playing a giant, incomprehensible game of checkers or chess or mancala or something with them. (What would the rules be? I can imagine the wind and ice trying to teach me, but geologic logic might be beyond me.) The stones may be the pawns of the wind and the ice, but perhaps now and then one or another rebels and moves about on its own.
