the threads in her head

Feeling a fraction of the pain I once used to feel.

And that fraction, with all its intensity, is stronger than any other rocking feeling I ever had in the past year. Which is curious. Which is interesting. In the end the outer turmoil cannot beat the inner storm.

Ah. Take a breath in, deeply. Was this not what I had craved for a little after all? Yes yes.

Snap, snap, capture, capture. Today I'm the camera. A pause, another snap. Fleeting moments, stills of a second. Lavishly loving words in a sms. The blush of a pink wall against the cold grey sky. A brown squrriel on the fence. The grey expanse of clouds and sky. The first few droplets of cold cold rain. The physics practice paper. The lesson. The prose and the poetry. The math of it all. Friends having lunch together at the bench.

Ahh, the brightness of a day.

The night. Work. Solving, writing, doing. Conversations, contributions. The planning, the behind-the-scene work. A slight thrill. A light-hearted teasing of another friend.

Then, the linger; the start of it. Ah. I remember this. I remember this nuance.

I remember this prayer.