Do you notice the light now, how it sits at the same time each day?
It’s more noticeable indoors when our frame of reference stays the same. Mapping periods of waiting onto walls.
I’ve been thinking about waiting a lot recently. What it means to be in a state of perpetual anticipation, a dull longing or a hyped-up pacing of the brain. I started to notice how change occurs in this gap. The inside may harden, soften, flower and merge. It may clog up and die, disintegrate and disperse. It pushes to the edges things that would normally keep it together.
I got to know your body through forgetting my own. I got to feel its softness against seasons. Jeans, dresses, bralettes and puff sleeves. Most things don’t fit me. The flowers that we bought, and gingerly decanted into the conical vase, hung dead for months their soft yellows smouldering.
I couldn’t put them out.