I zoomed through space on silver floating hands while eating an apple gifted by my great-grandfather.
Through steel window frames with concrete foundations the blackberry vines twisted shaping and contorting my view out onto the street.
Coming back from Japan and Costa Rica especially – I sat in my room alone and cried for days. It is true that where we go shapes us, and upon returning “home” it confronts us and saddens us deeply about who we were, who we are, and who we’re suppose to be.
How quickly we mold like goo back into the role previously played by us for our family.
My closet had mirrored doors. I painted my closet lime green and pink – looking back – it was awful. I painted an accent wall school bus yellow. The carpet was an almost royal blue. How did I ever fall asleep?
Sliding doors opened onto a cobbley pebbled balcony that wrapped the entire side of the house. I never really went out there – I had a fear of the sides of my house. I had a fear of the rec room, the furnace room, the whole basement. My room was in the basement. I had seen an image of a man in red plaid in the furnace room when we first moved there.
where rivers are born 