We are buoyant with light and warmth, sitting in the cage smoking cigarettes and drinking beer late into a large beautiful night. What is emerging between us all is fragile, we are pulling the fresh memories and friendships close to our chest, we are all just hanging on. There is history happening all around us, a history that we are manifesting, and for a few hours the wheelchairs, missing limbs, scars and scabs of these streets are forgotten.
A man using crutches runs through the traffic to cross the street. Russell calls his voice filled with joy, he has found a rusted child's firetruck, it reminds him of me. When he arrives the beauty of it all lifts the sadness I was swimming in. It is so amazingly pretty and perfect. It was that moment of magic I was looking for in the day, the one thing that makes that almost imperceptible shift happen.
No comments:
Post a Comment