Yummy. Crisp new dark blue sheets I glide into. Warm light. Fresh images from the film Baraka racing through my mind undisturbed. I put the words that truly mattered in my journal where they belong. My last entry was coated with the syndrome of PM.
Deep down there was a little stone well with about a foot of water which contained beautiful orange coy motionless in my belly and they held the tiny gigggle which was about to erupt.
Friday the sun broke through and we were all standing close to the windows all day, sometime my face was pressed to the cold glass of the familiar strangers home. When I was finally freed night had long since fallen overhead and there was only crisp darkness and a stretchy moonlit cloud above.
Saturday evening ran into 4am Sunday so quickly that they had to kick the crowd of us out all at once from their new lovely home. What a nice party. I tackled the Swede with the big nose and then later when I was unawares, while tiptoeing delicately down the middle of the barren steep street, he came from behind and picked me up and tried to turn me upside down but we both fell to asphalt quickly. Only moments before Hubby warned me that this Swede liked to turn people upside down...Hubbs supposed it was the wrestler in him. You think? When I showered just now I could make out in the dim light raised red gashes across my legs and arms from the fall. The hot water burned them raw so much so that they opened and liquified. I love when my skin holds the memory of a night within it for days like this until i am ready to let it go and suddenly I realize it has quietly healed before my eyes leaving no trace.
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