We walk through a museum and we let the abstractions wash over us their physical reality like a still but moving waterfall. Then we emerge outside and the sun is there on our skin with the concrete and the trees and the bodies moving around with maps or tea in their hands and hats on their heads and the abstractions move into us in this seeping motion where they remain mute immutable indifferent.

 

you’ve felt this but never said it. That’s why I’m here.

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: