January 28th, 2017


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.




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