or a sentence that stops me like a brick wall.
What is life, but an ever spinning contact sheet made up of stream-of-conscious photographs? Once in a blue moon the unexpected will occur and earthquakes will prevail, shaking the ground in a way so fierce; it's intensity forces our bodies to move in the moment. Immediately following that sudden jolt, the earth subsides and returns back into its normal sleeping state, and we find ourselves spending the days and nights ahead endlessly gazing like store-window mannequins into the photo-stills of our past. After an earthquake exists, I memorize that bone-shattering moment in detail, develop the vision, and frame its picture in my mind's eye where it become part of a collection of recollections.
That collection of photographs becomes my life, because so much time is spent staring into it while I wish, wish the ground would tumble the way it once did.
It's been difficult to find earthquakes in Florida. The flatlands are so tired and still; but I suppose that's a key objective in moving here. To be isolated from shaking, to walk on solid-firm ground, and to move our bodies in motion so slow;
it's premeditated.
Is there somebody else out there that actually likes to be proved wrong, craves the impulse of risk-taking, and wants more then anything; to be caught so off-guard they're stopped dead in their tracks?
I hope when I move to California I'm swallowed by the continuous rattling of the earth.
I'm tired of spending my days staring at a photo-album, and I'm bored with nights defined by studying my own history book.
That collection of photographs becomes my life, because so much time is spent staring into it while I wish, wish the ground would tumble the way it once did.
It's been difficult to find earthquakes in Florida. The flatlands are so tired and still; but I suppose that's a key objective in moving here. To be isolated from shaking, to walk on solid-firm ground, and to move our bodies in motion so slow;
it's premeditated.
Is there somebody else out there that actually likes to be proved wrong, craves the impulse of risk-taking, and wants more then anything; to be caught so off-guard they're stopped dead in their tracks?
I hope when I move to California I'm swallowed by the continuous rattling of the earth.
I'm tired of spending my days staring at a photo-album, and I'm bored with nights defined by studying my own history book.