(unedited)
I never listened to my hair before. Why did it remind me of kindling crackling on a fire when I twirled it between my fingers. Crackling and popping. Snap, crackle, pop. Is my hair dry and brittle? If I listen can I hear and understand the language of my hair? what would my other hairs’ say? My arm hairs… are they always too hot or too cold? Do they eavesdrop on conversations at cafes and at the grocery store? Was my hair dying for me to listen? Shit. I’ll have to pay more attention to my hair. Brittle. Crispy. Wound Up. maybe my hair has been trying to tell me something this whole time… my hand is cramping and my back is sore. I need to move my body. I think I’ve run out of things to say. Hairy.
where rivers are born 