On the plane leaving San Francisco for Boston...
Preface
I'm going to try and build this world with Words. Excuse the inelegance, my thoughts have not practiced here in many years. I'm going to try and open behind diagrammatic clarity. I want this place to breathe in the ambiguity. I want it to wash into being and leave a ride that recedes unpredictably. I want to emulate ocean waves crawling into the shore.
This space is for me. It's where my ghost rests, where my inexpressible reside. It is where I wish to marry. I will build this place one day. It will be for her. It is for her - I don't know who She is yet, but I will find Her and She will find me. And I will take her here, and we can stand and watch the water and the air breathe, and we will breathe all the same.
This is where I will die, and leave. This is where I will nourish the next life, where my ghost will find another. I want to be of this soil. This air. I want this world to exist somewhere, in here, so that I have a place to go and breathe in peace...
The lake horizon
This is the edge. The air is crisp and cold, but the sun and stone beneath are even and warm. Your breathing is long and slow. You are not thirsty, the water in your blood flows quiet and with ease. You drink with each breath, the droplets in the air moisten your lungs; you are full of life's substance, your breathing is slow.
You blink when needed. Eyelashes catching the mist, eyes squinting slightly. The light is bright, liquid Z's off the waters surface and burn patches of rods and cones with their radiance. You stand in a slab of sandy white travertine. Athens surface is honed and cleaned. Your soles don't collect dust the water slips across the skin, fill the pores and cooled by the puddles of lake water . Contact full and complete.
there are birds singing
your breath is slow