The days feel longer though the sunshine hours makes them shorter.

28 Nov

when all our days are numbered marching bands will fill the streets & we will not hear them because we will be upstairs in the clouds by Sasha Fletcher has been on my coffee table a long while. Too long a while, in fact. Yet I now feel that it was there so long a while because it was waiting for the perfect moment to be devoured and last night that perfect moment came. When I read Sasha Fletcher’s words, I was reading our restlessness, there is a resonance in his voice that will carry across generations, across obligations across spaces a many.

We were all of us waiting to become electric.

We were all of us waiting to become something.

We were all of us waiting.

There are stories that once we get to the end, our eyes are not tempted to skip ahead and read those last lines, not because we do not want to know the ending but because we are so entranced with reading the stream of words that they cannot be torn away. This is one of those.

Sometimes we want to leave and we want to forget our responsibility, no matter how trivial or massive that responsibility be. Sometimes we want to throw our clocks out the window thinking it will stop time but knowing it will only create silence. Sometimes we want to throw our clocks out the window because then we can see something shatter out of our hands.

Speaking of being hungry, of running out of time, of the ambiguity of why we are here, Sasha Fletcher joins together the real and the not yet real, the brutality of the daily grind and the hopefulness of our daydreams, our night dreams and our nightmares.

Available from:
mud luscious | Powell’s | Amazon

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