One day, a few years ago, I was walking around in a small town. The trees were green and it was bright and beautiful outside. I was feeling down. I was walking up a grass covered hill. I remember hearing people walking by me, talking to each other, and as they came closer I heard their voices grow louder and louder and fade away again as they passed me. I thought about how easily it was for them to pass. To go by and continue. I thought about how I was walking on. How it never seemed to stop. Nothing was solid. We all just kept going. Moving on from place to place, home to home, situation to situation. Transients.
This person makes and sells jewelry for vintage Barbie dolls!
I thought further about this idea of transience. How I never really felt at home. How all the places I’d been in the last few years never felt solid. Always sliding out from under my feet, so that I had to keep my legs moving all of the time. And I was happy about this. It felt comfortable to know that I wouldn’t be staying where I was. Because I was in no way happy.
Now. Perhaps this place feels a little more solid. Philadelphia. Perhaps like a…more than a pudding…maybe like a soft bread…no a sponge cake.
Philadelphia is a sponge cake.
there will be time for all of that, later.
Fluffy and soft and sweet. Think I’ll stay awhile.