Jul 21, 2008 00:03
There's a music box playing a charming tinkling tune next to me. If I wanted to, I could pick it up. It would nestle into my hands in perfect proportions and transport me to childhood and into my professor's house. Tomorrow a little typewriter is arriving at my door.
She is the bearer of aged objects that give my home a greater time span. She makes me peppermint herbal iced tea to be consumed on the back deck with Bauhaus on a portable record player wafting out onto the garden. Her partner looks at her with the lovestruck eyes of a boy in love for the first time. She teases him with knowing grace.
Nights like this that I feel everything is going to alright.
bouts of magical escapism,
friends,
love,
the life of objects,
the ineffable