Friday, September 11, 2009
It was totally dark. I could hear my breathing or heart beat, I’m not sure which. I was floating in space. There was no water, no air, no up, no down. Like I said, I was floating in space. The only thing I could see was my memory of her. The only thing I could hear was my heartbeat, or maybe my breathing. I couldn’t feel a thing. I was floating in space. I needed to cry again because it was the only physical thing I could do that make manifest the sea inside, but the sound would have been too devastating, too jarring, too shockingly loud. When you’re floating in space, there is a quietness, a numbness. The only sound is my breathing or my heartbeat. The echo of my own voice is too painful when you know you’re alone, when you’re floating in space in a metal cathedral.