It was me on that road, but you couldn't see me
There is a depth associated with childhood that I tend not to bathe into. It is all consuming. It is dark. But it is also creative. It is being cold and hungry and rocking back and forth and not realizing that there was anything wrong with this until one day, your friend's mother reprimands her for starting to rock as well.
(pause)
Last night a tiger paced in front of the building I was in. Slow, short paces. Impatient, but disguised friendly. Destructive but cloaked in cotton. Its head as it paced was the lull of an infinity symbol. (If you've ever seen it, it is the swaying of the tiger's head as it rips a man apart.)
(pause)
For a few years, I was in a fairy tale. Something of Cinderella. Something of Hansel and Gretel. The woods around me had no leaves. The paths within them had no end.
and then flashlights
and explosions
be well; be loved,
k.
(title and italicized words from Röyksopp's song What Else is There?)
(whimage: Fei Fei Sun photographed by Josh Olins for Vogue China November 2011 via pradaphne tumblr)
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