Birch Forest, Gustav Klimt
because my dreams have taken an indefinite sojourn (so that i can't).
there are cranes hanging in my room that have been admired by generations. made by my aunt, for my grandmother, to ease the pain. 12 colorful cranes that summon your attention. no two are alike, although a pair of them are sisters. they now hang in my room reminding me. i look over at them now and they're dancing. twirling in silence. to the beat of their own hearts. i am twirling to the beat of my own heart too.
today i sat down and my heart raced. to keep up my mind raced and projected a thousand thoughts and images against the screen. i watched and decided which one complemented the beat of my heart best. birch forest.
my heart is tricky sometimes. i feel it knocking on my ribcage but when i place my hand to bar it from breaking out, she holds back. halts. she won't allow me to handle her. she wants me to endure her.
"listen to me. feel me in your blood. i am your metronome. conduct yourself in my tempo."
ok.
...
there is a symphony of almostsilence. the sound of a constant flowing stream. and the flutters of butterfly wings. and babies breathing. and birds collecting twigs for their nestlings. i am lying down on a floor of autumn leaves.
(how these leaves began and ended: in the earth. already alive in the seed. after years and years they finally manifest themselves. each one. they dance in the wind. sing in the rain. reflect at sunset. and glow in the night. when they are too old they prepare for their journey. they take one last dance. sing their closing song. pray at their last sunset. and in their final night they whisper "goodbye" and begin their journey. whirling back to earth. their glow becoming fainter and fainter and. landing on the floor that holds me now.)
i wake up and the sky is a yellowy-blue. like a turner sky. the crowns of trees slowly bobbing in the air. lack of gravity i suppose. my body finds a way to elongate itself. i am standing side by side these wooden structures. but i am not bobbing. i am not defying gravity. gravity is something that will never leave me. (remember? that one time gravity owed me one...) and now he won't leave. a curse. weighty
i shrink back. i close my eyes.
the sound of waves clashing with each other. crests jumping and diving. the sea cascading onto the glistening silky shore. the sound of the wind collecting sand. little rocks flying. floating. here i feel weightless. my hair suspended in the moistened sea air. the water drifting over my feet, lulling me towards it. the scent of the ocean intoxicating me.
before waking. sounds like.
the last 24 seconds of John Wayne Gacy Jr. by Sufjan Stevens
a pack of seagulls passing overhead
in it's entirety, glassworks: opening by philip glass
andvari by sigur ros
faint whispers
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