Tuesday, November 04, 2008
i am wearing a soft cloud of a pink robe and eating oranges- musummi, really, i like their tough thick peel and the unexpected juiciness beneath such an unyielding exterior, much like many people i love- and the men are in a tizzy because they are pouring the roof for the new room, and in this utterly masculine task driver guard sweep supervisor and lout alike are united in the thrill of sniffing fumes from the medievally clanking roaring concrete mixer, of clambering up and down railings yelling directions nobody heeds- just the pleasure of pitting one's voice against the din?- and rushing in and out of my little feminine kitchen-haven where i am carefully sectioning a pale orange into a mardi gras bowl, feeling my life edging irrevocably, sweetly, quietly, seismically in a direction i know nothing of only that it is a path waiting newly, growing grass and dandelions to be stepped on or around and fields not yet run or moped through, and the breeze is cool and knowing against my skin so i know wherever this adventure leads i will go, and be happy.Mina at 1:03 PM
