The End

1 February 2016

We thought we could crystallize caring. Watching the umbrellas going by in the street. Sarah calls this studio time although all we’re really doing is thinking and making notes. I was worried about what I could no longer notice. All the beer distributors on their laptops at the counter. I made a note to watch for epic similes. But what if we really do experience thankfulness. I can now see the tree as a storytelling device. Rituals exist because sheer will isn’t enough. Because sheer love isn’t enough. The pop song I remember from 1998. How to see the things that have become invisible to you. We take each ornament from the box. From its bunched tissue paper. Every house a container for objects awaiting their own dissolution. Today I empty the refrigerator and smell each item before replacing it. Attempting to account for the hours we spend under man-made lights. We wanted to believe in the moral uprightness of bedtime. Your complicated scent-distribution machine. Quotation marks around planning. Wanting to lift and arrange the towering sadnesses contained in the season. I write something about the shortening days and the towering workload. But do you have someone to talk to. I think the phrase I used was gently suggest. When the volunteer shift ended without warning. The profound relief of having a place where I was supposed to be in these hours. It’s easy to send an email but sometimes this task takes you days. Did you want to see how mortal we are. Left alone to watch birds fly over a neighboring roof. I made a note to watch for images of height and depth. You make a list in order to cross things off it.

 


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