there is something
about my front room at 2 a.m. in the mostly dark that's fascinating.
I don't know if it's the curve of the plants or the way the light from the aquarium makes the statue of Kali seem like she's moving. Maybe it's the glint from the shotglasses or the balance of the white bookshelf or the blanket that's thrown over the red chair of joy.
It doesn't matter, the why of it.
What matters is that it *is* and that the act of being fascinating gives me joy.
Gives me a peace.
Reminds me that there are very few things that are more true than 2 a.m., whether it's pain or joy or desperation.
I don't know if it's the curve of the plants or the way the light from the aquarium makes the statue of Kali seem like she's moving. Maybe it's the glint from the shotglasses or the balance of the white bookshelf or the blanket that's thrown over the red chair of joy.
It doesn't matter, the why of it.
What matters is that it *is* and that the act of being fascinating gives me joy.
Gives me a peace.
Reminds me that there are very few things that are more true than 2 a.m., whether it's pain or joy or desperation.
posted by Auntie Pooh @ 2:33 AM
1 Comments:
At 7:42 AM,
DarthVelma said…
Have I told you lately that I just love your brain? :)
BTW, read your previous post...if you can't say anything nice...come sit next to me. *snort* (Seriously, if you need to rant, you just call.)
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