The memories, physically, feel the same, inside the mind. Under, or through which criteria do they translate otherwise? I’m becoming vague again…I’m losing my train of thought.
She understands the slow burn better than me, and I don’t blame her. The full moon from my birthday is waning, I conserved as much as I could.
Is it a good night where you are? Did you see my full moon? I felt her waves.
Untitled, 10/15/02, 1:19 PM, 8C, 4690×6772 (756+794), 100%, chrome 6 stops, 1/12 s, R46.7, G28.2, B39.6 ISO 192, F11, Photo Paige Knigh
There is so much comfort in boredom. The comfort is tiring. The comfort makes me sleepy.
I’ve been floating again. Between dimensions, in the moments between sleep, dream, awake. Each time it happens, I can hold on to it longer – to the limbo where I’m nowhere and nothing – untethered to any place, time, encasement.
Censorship stifles good creation.