I wake myself imagining the shape of the day and where I will find myself within it. Language is not often in that shape, but sentences survive somehow through the islands of dark matter, the negative space often more important than the positive. Imagine finding you look at the world completely different upon waking one day. You do not know if this is permanent. Anything can change, after all, for how else would you find yourself in this predicament or this opportunity, depending on the frame? A single thought can make loneliness seem frighteningly new. We destroy the paths of rivers to make room for the sea. Copyright © 2016 Adam Clay. Used with permission of the author. |
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