Sometimes we leave and don’t come back. And when others want to talk with us. It’s like this because. Stamping stamps on while another takes shape. Hello to them and to you. After all, there hadn’t been just one. A young girl walks firmly while watching her footsteps. Each landed nicely placed within the field’s dust. She wanted to know from the spider which angle it liked to build and the spider replied,’From the best.’
‘It was in that room too that I learned not to think about anything that I was writing from the time I stopped writing until I started again the next day. That way my subconscious would be working on it and at the same time I would be listening to other people and noticing everything.’
-Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast: The Restored Edition.
Our throat is filled with unending pressure. Each swallow becomes more difficult. We watch the wall to end us and then remember a boy with brazen glances. His hair is unruly and he’s climbing a tree. He said he wants to climb to the very top and then sway to the next before climbing down. We ask, can we be this wild boy?.