Some places in the world are common to me.
They look like my hands and pruned up fingers, they taste like stomach acid and they smell of sulfur and the sea. But that’s okay with me.
I walk there. To all of them. My feet drag on and on and the places I go are then not places at all.
Just familiar faces with the names stuck at the tip of my tongue, the letters set off my taste buds and the feeling is always, but not always, bitter sweet. I am like a child, looking at a photograph of myself and seeing myself. My hair is lighter, thinner, my face similar yet the baby bones make my cheeks looked pushed out as if I’m eating something too large for my teeth. My clothes are smaller, the room looks brighter, and the sparkle in my eyes lets me know that the person I was then still is here in my heart, and she knocks at every second, whispering throughout my body and throughout my soul. But then I don’t remember. I search the back of my brain, going through every piece of information stored there and coming up with nothing. I was never there, I never smiled that way and the people who are touching me are smoke stains. But that’s okay with me.
I can’t keep my eyes from the windows. Scenes of weather, relationships, star explorations and the stationary things that constantly kiss the wooden, metal and plastic frames will never let go of my attention. I stare at them, knowing how impolite that is and smile because it is impolite. They never change. Some things are moved and are different colors and are different temperatures and some are dead, newly buried then dug up laboriously during the whole of the night, and some are translucent, but they are all the same. Always, but not always the same. But that’s okay with me.
You watch me walk and talk and hug and sing and dance and prance and sleep and breathe and cry and fall and die and crawl and swing and trip and roll and whisper. You can see me smiling at the window and you wonder what I’m thinking about. You know that if you know it won’t be as satisfying as you believed it to be and the ending scene is always, but not always
bitter sweet.