06.22.05 - 10:40 p.m.

I watched a moth float down the length of the hall in the last of the fading daylight. My heart collapsed in on itself until it was a moth, a dead one, because it could never make it down the hallway on its own after that sight.

I remember other evenings of sitting alone in my Mom's white apartment watching bands of light created by the closed blinds slowly roll across my bare room and over my two posters. One was a painting of a door opening into the ocean, and the other was a photo of stairs rising out of it. The light indoors stepped into and out of the water too. My mom used to take naps with her shoes on.

Riding a double-decker bus recently, I watched people walking down below on the sidewalk lean back in their stride like they were being driven around too.......probably with one hand casually draped over their steering wheel and the other furled around a soda, or resting on someone's knee. On that bus ride I felt like I understood treetops-as-beds in the way that Dr. Suess must have for the first time. You can lean back and relax into anything really.

see< >saw

i whisper hello to everything