Manhattan

Today the sky is the color of whatever the fuck the time is. And I held my breath so I could see more clearly. I held my breath for the length of a lifetime and the purple around the tree showed me what exactly it meant - that we are nothing after all. "No one is anything."


8/16.

Fourteen clatterings possible sources of sound. Who will say that it's not really one big thing? And in trying to find out, I found out more. Couldn't walk anymore. No - I lie - I walked back and regressed so I could take a second look. Is "memory" supposed to be a black piece of marble in the middle of a mass of land no one cares to frequent in the later part of a saturday afternoon? Hell, who am I to say?

I heard about it but hearing is different from understanding. All these beautiful justifications; all these degradations. The most important thing in the world is beyond this. Beyond what you couldn't look beyond. Why? I'm not sure. He was near the end of his life; he was at the beginning. You thought you were the only one gone but talk to the person standing next to you - he's as gone as you are. You're at the end of the line aren't you? No hope? No. Those seven people - THEY are past the end of the line. THEY have no hope.

--

The life we can and the life we are; the life we could and the life we will.

THAT is why we still breathe the everyday, most beautiful air we can. THAT is why we are.