Winter has landed. The eager snowploughs, chomping at the bit, quickly entrenched unsuspecting cars behind walls of snow. Fur coats have come out of hibernation. The world is white again, no racism implied.
I can't write, for the life of me, I can't write. I cannot write about this very late supper with friends and the confidences I received around 3 am, raising disturbing images best left shrouded.
I cannot write about adapting my expectations to reality, about being disappointed but not being crushed, about accepting to not understand.
I cannot write about a life with no particular crisis, with plenty on the agenda ahead, flowing like the river that has not frozen yet. It's like emotions have been suspended. I can't write without emotions. I'm still here.
Right now, I'm watching neutrally, patiently, dispassionately. I’m watching you. And you. And you. Just watching, while I water my flowers and sip on my coffee.
Well, since I don't pretend to understand anything, I'll just say this: the river hasn't frozen yet? Let's grab a canoe! ;-)
ReplyDeleteThere is nothing to understand but yeah, great weather for capsizing ..
ReplyDeleteBefore people think I'm rude to my little brother, we do have a history :)
ReplyDelete:-)
ReplyDeleteYou know what? We're there, waiting and watching too.
And maybe, just maybe, we can listen...