these things i like

Resurrection music,     silence,      and surf

[...] we lay on the river-bank, learning the lines of each other's bodies anew. This, and this and this. We were like gods, at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.

I focused on my breathing, you were allowed to do that. You could even count the breaths. And then at the end you could just think about anything, anything you wanted, but after five minutes of counting my breath, I didn’t want to think. My mind felt empty, like the inside of a glass jar. I was appropriating my fear of total disappearance as a spiritual practice. I was inhabiting disappearance as something that could reveal and inform, rather than totalise and annihilate. A lot of the time my meditation was unsuccessful.

Most of our childhood is stored not in photos, but in certain biscuits, lights of day, smells, textures of carpet.

She wonders if / he is listening too. The cruel thing is, she falls asleep / listening.

Sometimes a journey makes itself necessary.