August 2, 2009

  • An exercise in writing

    The back of my hands smell like sandalwood body butter. I keep smelling them as my hands move around, keep lifting them, one at a time, to my nose. There was rain today. Torrential and loud. And now the sky is dry and everything seems scrubbed. Light and clean. Freshly washed sun.

    It's hard to talk today. To think even, because there would be too much to say and far too much for my mind. Instead there are snippets, bits. A breeze. The smell of grass. I only allow the senses to process but so much. Anything more would be over load, and I will not allow for over load today.

    Instead I light a candle. Listen to the vague sounds of remaining thunder. Plan distraction for the remainder of the evening. Step lightly. Speak softly, if at all.

    Wait for daylight.