I See it All Through a Telescope.

street performer by the thames

frozen harbor.

southwark cathedral and a coffee drinker.

Say That You Will (Stay)

the city of beach, bed, and umbrella. taken by bozo_8

I am surrounded by the silence of a snowstorm with the thick scratchless train window pane between. And there is this solitude that only traveling and a good pair of headphones can settle you into.

I think of the irony of pigeon lances atop passing church crosses. My easily and currently bruised knees. my train companions likeness to Che Gevera. and how your ankles were always falling past the edge of the bed.

Time shuttles past. In bright blue electric lines and I am already jealous of myself in this now, past moment whose end will be marked by the trains arrival and thinking of more practical things. My bills. Resumes. Gas mileage.

Marked by another continent and someone elses ankles.

Time Without Consequence

untitled. by edmund_li

It was the year I didn't read a single book. not cover to cover anyway. i would only read half of them, sometimes less, and get lost in worries. half drunk cups of coffee. half drunk friends. it was the year rubber tires turned to bodies and worn down pavement. the year i learned the joy of looking at lips when someone speaks and the importance of pomegranates. it was the year of the ox. steady plain quiet. impulsively shoving food into its belly and cursing the cold. it was the year my sister thought she would marry and didnt. it was the year i lost you, but you know that. the year i learned that genetics and never taught lessons will unwelcomely ressurect themselves. like a ghost or a familiar perfume. the curls of smoke. the edges of beds. one letter. two just right gifts. a frozen cup of tea. a silent birthday. hips sway. heels blister. an oven full of fire.

someone get the champagne.