the tyranny of distance...

I would touch your hand in friendship
and ride upon your smile,
I would warm my travelling heart
before your fire –
but have I loved too well, too often –
is my gypsy soul afraid
of drowning
in your understanding eyes…?

N. Witcomb, The thoughts of Nanushka




HE: What are you doing here?

SHE:I was taking a walk and I saw you and I followed you.

HE:What do you want.

SHE:I want you to stop.


HE:I breathe hard, stare hard, tense and coiled. There is still more tree for me to destroy, I want that fucking tree. She smiles and she steps towards me, toward toward toward me, and she opens her arms and I’m breathing hard staring hard tense and coiled she puts her arms around me with one hand on the back of my head and she pulls me into her arms and she holds me and she speaks.
It’s okay.
I breathe hard, close my eyes, let myself be held.
It’s okay.
Her voice calms me and her arms warm me and her smell lightens me and I can feel her heart beat and my heart slows and I stop shaking and the Fury melts into her safety and she holds me and she says.
Okay
Okay
okay
Something else comes and it makes me feel weak and scared and fragile and I don’t want to be hurt and this feeling is the feeling I have when I know I can be hurt and hurt deeper and more terribly than anything physical and I always fight it and control it and stop it but her voice calms me and her arms warm me and her smell lightens me and I can feel her hearth beat and if she let me go right now I would fall and the need and confusion and the fear and regret and horror and shame and weakness and fragility are exposed to the soft strength of her open arms and her simple word okay and I start to cry. I start to cry. I start to cry.
It comes in waves. The waves roll deep and from deep the deep within me and I hold her and she holds me tighter and I let her and I let it and I let this and I have not felt this way this vulnerability since I was ten years old and I don’t know why I haven’t and I don’t know why now and I only know that I am and that it is scary terrifying frightening worse and better than anything I’ve ever felt crying in her arms just crying in her arms just crying.
She guides me to the ground, but she doesn’t let me go….

a million little pieces, J. Frey



"..this cousin had a girlfriend with cheekbones to break your heart, and you knew she was the real thing when she steadfastly refused to acknowledge your presence. She possessed secrets – about islands, about horses, about French pronounciation – that you would never know.."

J. McInerney; Bright Lights, Big City