She’s still tired a lot. And we rub against each other – at times scarily, threatening a split. And then we make up.
I told her about this blog after our last argument. I invited her to join. She cautiously accepted, said she would try.
Today a got a piece from her:
The weight on my shoulders, vigilance in blocks. It rests on a tangled thick wire which goes down to my pelvis – quite stable, still quite okay that triangle of pelvis. Good for dancing, for bearing weight. Yet right above it is the big dark swamp of my belly – so vast and soft I don’t even look. I know I will need to. I know there are fishes there. Fishes of bending my head to avoid friction, and above all – fishes of craving comfort.