The sky blurs to a gray as the damp air seeps from underneath the door. It brings forth the heavy words that hang unsaid all around this house.They tangle around the moist thoughts that I struggle to silence. Yesterday, I went out to shore to send out messages, clearing myself of some of the thoughts that were writing themselves over and over in my head. Inside their glass bottles they will be dryer than I’ve ever been but it feels lonely without my complete collection.
I think I did it for them, so that they could finally experience the beauty that was missing inside of me. Beauty is often described using images of porcelain or roses, but porcelain ages and shatters and roses dry up and crumble. For me, beauty is the ocean with its incessant rise and fall of breath. A blue painting that never grows old and withers away.