Butterfly, Bulbul and a Bottle of Whiskey
The sky is a heavy blanket of greys. But the sun shines through. Finding its edges. We are on the road. Stories are shared.
You're as familiar as half of my life, and yet, entirely new. We make time to let our new spaces be known. I realised something through you. That we draw chalk lines on door frames to measure ourselves against in some distant imagined future of a newer, better, more moral self. And prepare for the aching taste of pain at the destination.
Time for a meal. Eating together. That time spent in nourishing ourselves. Sewing connections over the desires of what to put in the mouth, in the stomach, in the body. Connected over the shared matter of a meal that we each keep a part of. There is something primal and precious about the act of eating together. Maybe that is why families do it.
Making time for the skies to fill my eyes, the wind to touch my skin, and the soft rain to turn me into heat, into water. And he walks beside me. His universe an orchestra of scents, swimming in air.
Sitting in silence. And the silence holds us like an old friend. Present, assured, easy.
And now. Making the time to pause.
It's not a bad start.
You're as familiar as half of my life, and yet, entirely new. We make time to let our new spaces be known. I realised something through you. That we draw chalk lines on door frames to measure ourselves against in some distant imagined future of a newer, better, more moral self. And prepare for the aching taste of pain at the destination.
Time for a meal. Eating together. That time spent in nourishing ourselves. Sewing connections over the desires of what to put in the mouth, in the stomach, in the body. Connected over the shared matter of a meal that we each keep a part of. There is something primal and precious about the act of eating together. Maybe that is why families do it.
Making time for the skies to fill my eyes, the wind to touch my skin, and the soft rain to turn me into heat, into water. And he walks beside me. His universe an orchestra of scents, swimming in air.
Sitting in silence. And the silence holds us like an old friend. Present, assured, easy.
And now. Making the time to pause.
It's not a bad start.