Thursday, February 18, 2016

Bizarro Anne Shirley

just finished reading 'wild' by cheryl strayed, which had been recommended by several to me, specifically.  and i did, i did, i did like it.
 it is still fresh by my side and i'd like it to keep going, i'd like to watch her unravel and ravel and i'd like to be not talking, by her side, as i hike my own narrow path.

all along, i was with her.  I felt like Sebastian and the never ending story, i was there, i was watching, a pair of eyes beyond the tent walls...
 i could feel her release at believing her mother was just the other side of the river. a tiny sentence, an untalked revelation...  a literal spacing, a burble containing heartbeats of the beloved. the silence of the walking, the walking. dependance on the foot, unreliability of the foot, irrelevance of the foot. winnowing. WINNOW.
one of my favorite words, ever.

the book is open. the box is laid low.
the plans have been blown to shit
and the wind is still gusting.



MotherOfGooses said...

Everything is coming together signalling that I must read Wild. I had been resisting for so long for some reason. I guess I was afraid it would be too cliche or something. Then I heard her on the radio and even though she's got her TED-talk-slick-spiel down pat, she still had some things to say. And her words, "Sometimes you have to break your own heart." have stuck with me all week. Now you are saying it was good and I've been offered a more excuses for me, I guess.