and the mystery flows back and forth, pendulous.
i can't twitter, or show you how i walk from room to room. it stutters, the camera, and you miss the meaning, the feelings of the walk, the space i push through.
the shadow in the speckled light. the empty spaces between the words, the holders of meaning-in pause, commas.
it is good to take the breaks, even if we don't know what they mean, how long they might last, how many cloudy days there will be.
i think i'm reacting against too many people being too public with their private, too sharey. there is a difference between private and secretive, shamed by what is unspoken. i leave empty bits all around, and like this format for its privacy and its shared nature, all at once.
**we did take our tree down, and now theres another empty space, slowly filling with pokemon card piles and a foldable foosball table and basically flotsam and jetsam, that weird foam that appears on the beach sometimes. this was part of our 'fierce' photo shoot, to show me myself and what i look like now. whoosh... the light and the fire, me the dark empty bit, and then everything else.
whoosh... guessing that what i look like now isn't all that necessary to figuring out my selfimage. . .