woodwork

I'd like to know more people who make silence so enjoyable. more people who can feel their surroundings so closely, be touched by the subtleties.

prayer keeps me grounded, anchors me to this calm paradise, self-discovered. it wouldn't hurt to know someone who could also taste this peaceful quiet too, though. you must create your own happiness before others can enrich it.

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serendipitous encounters with kind strangers who show me their condo and drive me to my place to stay.

the woodworker who puts "all his love" into his work – his amazing work that takes what we discard and turns it into masterpieces. this man, an inspiration.

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a perfect place for quiet thoughts, reflection, independent exploration before the frenzy arrives for the summer. these next few days will be for recollection, calm, growth;

peace, subtleties, yearning, loss – it's trapped inside this container that is me, this container that grows smaller the more time I spend interacting with others, but bigger the more time I spend by myself. or is it the other way around?

kind strangers' freshly minted words bandage my bleeding cuts; but the people I know, the ones who don't say what I wish they would, that hurts the most.

going forward

probably not entirely fair, how it works – but it's over now...

a pillage of thoughts and words, green chairs on blue lawns, orange skies on white chocolate clouds and spurts of quiet. practice practice practice, and when you pause to take a breath, it's there, to relax, to calm down; to keep thoughts to yourself; there's not much..

law walks by and wonders if there's anything left. he had been training on his own while I was away for the semester. not punching numbers in a calculator, but running, stretching, juggling knives in the air, breaking spells from glares from strangers; coldness and sensitivity, trained at once.

but it's nice to find a deeper warmth glowing in fiction. the greatest friends come from anywhere, and the time you spend with them feels just right. we celebrate our quiet, independent hours in a comfort only we understand. those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.

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we tend to owe our greatest gratitude to those very things we take most for granted.

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soft hums of planes overhead. I'll be on one soon, with ev and law by my side, and we'll play about and relax in the coming gardens we have. exciting. I don't feel a dark cloud overhead; actually, I feel a soft glow from the ground beneath my feet, almost making me levitate into the air. 

I dislike the smirks I sometimes see. even worse, the cold words that accompany that false but seemingly genuine smile. I saw that today, and it hurt, the viciousness, but now law is binding up the wounds and throwing knives at the invisible wall that came up to knock it down. it's none of the person's business anyway - a passive-aggressive remark on personal desires; the peace and quiet is a lot calmer with the wall come falling down on her; death, in the dark passage storm cloud kind of way. law and ev each do the genuine smile that's truly from the heart, the kind that melts barriers and draws hugs; real people that feel; relatable; not that silent arrogance that lights fires and burns corpses and makes lightning want to strike twice each time you try to leave your car.

rain falls, the ground is wet, it's safe to walk, the stream in the sky is a beacon of hope, or a foretelling of good times ahead.