September 2010
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September 27
The stirring of the seasons brings a stirring of nostalgia. Cracked and icy blades of grass: sharp and shaped like morning air.
The top shelf.
8 month’s dust on a box full of sweaters: quietly folded, soft and secondhand.
‘This cold spell’s only meant to last a day.’
Memories tucked away on the top shelf with the sweaters.
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“I can remember how when I was young I believed death to be a phenomenon of the...”
– William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying
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“‘You ever have the feeling there’s a stray something or other inside you?’ he said. ‘You don’t know what it is, like a ball, or a stone, could be iron or cotton or grass or anything, but it’s inside you. It’s not a fire or a rage or anything. Just a big ball. And there’s no way to get at it?’ He cut himself short, looked away tapped the...
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September 7
Rain and the smell of chamomile
Clouds like dirty chalk
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“All the lives we could live, all the people we will never know, never will be,...”
– Aleksandar Hemon
“When one does not deliberately attempt to keep men in barbarism, they will...”
– Immanuel Kant
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