- Vol. 04
- Chapter 05
March 29, 2017
Yesterday I purchased time. I bought hours and minutes I watched them flow. I wore these moments on my wrist counting down the seconds like a promise I was making to myself.
Yesterday I saw a homeless man hang his socks on a tree’s bare branches – he roused my sympathy this man with his improvised washing-line and the tree bearing frayed yarn where buds should be.
Yesterday I stopped to listen to bird song on a cycle path then returned home to the perfume of fenugreek, cumin and nigella seed and a burst of lemon zest.
I felt connected to the turning earth the rise of sap, the return of Summer Time.
Today I watched fog curdle and curl – harbinger of an undesired separation. I fear I did not buy enough time to make this future come right. I feel dislocated, undone, unheard – unhomed.
Today the hand will be severed from the body.