Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Where is it that people live? On the edge of the skin, within reach of my hand or on the borders of the world? When they wake up everyday, where is it that they want to go?

Festering, mutering, yelling, yelping, how is it that they reach out?

Once a year, I would like to be in consonance. Mind and soul in harmony with the body, the body at peace in the world. Trotting in perfect rhythm.

Today as I conducted an interview, I found myself saying all the right things. And feeling far more. Or was it less? I wanted to peep out of my skin and whisper to him that he must not tell me all this. And no, I will not abuse it, I will not betray him. But he must not. All I can do is listen.

I am a great listener, a bad translator and an insincere interlocutor. I could never own what he might want to share.

Cardinal sin. Pretence.

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