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Monday, January 27, 2003 Alone. The fine hair on her arms twinkled in the alabaster moonlight. A perfect circle of white so high up there; she closed one eye and covered the light with her thumb. How easy it was to cancel out something so significant as the moon. There was no constant, no logic, rather an insistent turmoil. Like a small fish, the whole idea of what is swam away leaving silence in its wake. The water lapped against the bridge under her feet, caressing the wood then rejecting it all the same. (archives | details | blogger) Wednesday, January 22, 2003 Brakes screech and car after car stop to wait for permission to move again. The street fills with pedestrians; a man with a black trench coat pulls his scarf up over his ruddy cheeks as the wind blows him across the street. A father with two small children walks across glancing nervously at the drivers stopped at the red light, sensing their urgency. The cars stand still reluctantly, emitting fumes in protest. She sits behind the wheel of the second car glancing back and forth between the pedestrians and her chipped nail polish. The mundane urgencies of everyday life float above her head like a dark halo. He begins his journey across the street glancing down at his striped sneakers, then up at the light, then at the girl sitting in the blue car, second in line. He smiles a little. Her eyes widen. The light turns green. There is movement, an answer to the whispered urgencies of those contained. The rolls switch and those on foot curse the light. She drives away. (archives | details | blogger) Monday, January 20, 2003 The fights had always begun that way. The door would be left open and frustration would waltz into the place ignoring any semblance of order. A small jack rabbit stomping his feet in protest had replaced her involuntary heart, sending waves of crimson to her face. Fingers can be a perfect indicator; fists clenched with quiet rage. As the words flowed forth from her mouth, she knew the flood gates were opened. Nothing came of it all. The fury of a summer storm, and then quiet reproach and insignificance. |