|
2004-08-18 I have unearthed many common things that are dusted over with the everyday dirt of coming and going. Simple things when I become invisible when standing directly in front of mirrors. These things that are trapped in the skin no matter how many times it replaces itself. I can read fiction like I used to. Attempted books that failed with my math eyes at around page 100. A musky sweet, yellow paperback of The Joy Luck Club and 100 Years of Solitude just this week. I have noticed a softness coming back into my voice instead of the sharp angularities that are forced from my stomach when nervous. I am sing-song in my way of speech as I feel lighter and lighter. I don't feel vain just firmly seated in my body again. I know I am striking with large green with brown sunbursting eyes and high cheekbones from the Iroquois. I am better. I'm not sure where I was but I'm back with all my strengths, weakness, and awkward prejudices hanging off my fingers in ghost form. |