|on the shores of olbia, i almost met a girl with her eyes set to sea. i thought i would stride to her side and touch her shoulder, and we’d submerge ourselves in the sort of deep, profound conversation only strangers on soul-searching adventures could share. as i stood there, hesitating, mentally scripting our exchange, hesitating, she walked — in a straight line unbroken by indecision — into the water. and the water closed over her head. and the waves beat the shore steadily. and my heart beat steadily, too. steadily i must have walked for i suddenly realized i had taken her place by the sea. i remember how the tide hemmed the white sands with foam as the passing hours bruised the sky, but i do not remember how her name came to me. the source did not matter; she had no use for it so i took it for my own. i had already been many women in my time: the poison on his lips, his serpent in the tree. then i took my own wavering, crooked path far from the beach. since then i have thought much about how she chose to leave. how she chose the sea. of all the strong women i could be, how pathetic that i have chosen to be me.|
|^ crappy little scraps from book-thing. but i don’t really care to finish it so i’ll probably just blog bits of it here. followed by life drawings (in chinese bakeries and trains) from my sketchbook. hopefully i’ll scan the whole thing before it dies. it has been soaked by rain twice and drowned in vitamin water once. and i have misplaced it numerous times!