(no subject)
I would wear it as perfume, this scent of rustling pages and old words. Eau de nerd, bookworm's pheromone. I want my room to smell like this. I want my life to smell like this. A serene haven. A piece of the sidewalk through filthy glass, concrete ledge, three infinite flights of stairs.
Out the window and three stories down, lives tell themselves. Dark Hair with Blonde Highlights dives boldly into her purse; Crew Cut swings a bottle of water; Baseball Cap strides purposefully from sight.
I hear little beyond the tin tick of my watch. It measures without counting; every beat is a thing unto itself. And that is peace. Each second removed from each second. Time without cumulative effect.
I am breathing because I can hear myself breathing. I am alone, and it is fine.
Thank god.
I am better for being here. Twice a week, four hours of up and away.
And then down. And then out. And then back to my regularly scheduled life.
Out the window and three stories down, lives tell themselves. Dark Hair with Blonde Highlights dives boldly into her purse; Crew Cut swings a bottle of water; Baseball Cap strides purposefully from sight.
I hear little beyond the tin tick of my watch. It measures without counting; every beat is a thing unto itself. And that is peace. Each second removed from each second. Time without cumulative effect.
I am breathing because I can hear myself breathing. I am alone, and it is fine.
Thank god.
I am better for being here. Twice a week, four hours of up and away.
And then down. And then out. And then back to my regularly scheduled life.