Saturday, 12 March 2011

it happens

 
It happens sometimes when I'm doing the most mundane things. When I'm washing the dishes, or when I look up from my book at the next subway stop, was that you who just came in? I want to tell you what I've seen and done, what I've accomplished so far in my life. I want to grab your hand and point, look - I travelled here and there and touched this very spot, I ran down this street with a good friend laughing about something silly, I laid my fingertips on this window and marvelled at just how much beauty there was passing by, and slept on this floor just as the sun was coming up. I fell in and out of love, and I had my first drink there, a glass passed around a circle. I cried in that bathroom stall and spent that many hours on the phone, and I decided to go down this route instead of that other one. I made my first home here. I was afraid, and I am still afraid. If you knew that I made it here, what would you say?

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