Days are moving quicker, especially now; I’ve kept very quiet about it but there are so much things to think about and so many things to do that as an antithesis to it all I simply find myself falling to bed and falling asleep at once.
But to wake up sometime is a good idea: everything moves and I feel like I’m watching someone else getting ready, a move to France, a move to new lives, staring under bright lights at circles on my hand, trying to figure out which one is best, which one is for keeps.
What people don’t know is that three years ago in Marinduque Julien and I exchanged dusty stones at the foot of the old antique house we were staying in. This was the closest thing to perfection, that afternoon in a foreign island where people spoke a different language, where he and I were the only ones who understood what we wanted to say. A dirty dog watched our little exchange from the corner, scratching himself behind his ear, urgently. Like I said, the perfect engagement.
