TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile
During a rare sunny spell between rain and hailstorms, one senses tension wavering with the loosening of Night's grip on our hours. On a branch-strewn rocky path, I walk a familiar route through memory and feeling,lost ones gathering around me in the shadows. But Sam runs for the joy of it, drawing my eye to his loping gait and crooked grin and flapping tongue. His simple canine glee dispels gloomy wintry thoughts, tethering heart and mind to lightness--a wish for it, a grasping of it, a setting aside of internal space for its tenancy. Hello, spring.