photo: ‘and so runs the world away.’
i imagine yes is the only living thing. — ee cummings.
i imagine there is a world that is only all of our moments, strung together like the christmas tree lights of rockefeller center. that on this world of moments too big for this world, too important, too full of life, we could wade through the air heavy with golden prisms, thick with sentiment, and we could breathe in our existence. there would be no gravity; we’d breast stroke from adventure to adventure, reliving all of them. and when we tired, we’d float through our collective adventures at random.
the first time i smiled at you, when our eyes met, when you asked me my name.
it would be a world of indian summers and barefoot adventures and sun-drenched days, warm nights. i imagine the silence would be perfect. or maybe there would be a slow, rhythmic humming; the small pulse of our love.
and the sad moments, the hard moments would still be sweet because everything is beautiful in a world like this. cradled in the arc of the perfect harmony of our favorite songs.
and days on this world would be like eating the same small, perfect grape.
the small texture of our adventures, the pulp of our life, peeling back the flesh of every touch with our teeth.
the faint pop of our love.
and i know it’s foolish to believe in a world like this. a world of perfect chaos, perfect stillness, tangible sunshine.
and i know it’s foolish to believe in a world like this.