...the Hudson Highlands are full of ruins of houses that i could've lived in. berries grow all around, dark-red, sour-sweet, untouched by rot or worms. faerie food, don't touch, don't eat. we do, of course. The river below is smoke and mirrors, we have been climbing for two and a half hours and, standing at the top of the world, realize that we don't have a lighter and all the matches are wet. stars circle above, my imagination circles the dark.
..my bike got stolen last night as i sat with O. talking about my multiplicity and the past and a thousand other things i've missed talking about with her. her husband saw a man walk off with the bike, but he didn't know it was mine :) . i hope my bike will be happy wherever it's going and that they won't take it apart for parts. i want to tell them that it's been to Toronto and back and down and up misty northern Jersey roads with my brother and that it was bought for a dream when everything was different. But may be it'll tell it to them anyway and they won't take it apart for parts.
...i'm craving forests and fires, overwhelmed by cities and roads and people. Somewhere in the darker parts of me, stories are coming to life stronger than ever before. I dream of beautiful shapeshifter girls pulled out of drowned planes. We kiss each other on roofs and on attics and swear we'll never part.
... mist and the impossible.