Down to the wire, I’m sore and exhausted, overwhelmed with the giving, selling, gifting, donating, and trashing, the parting with things I sometimes struggled to purchase in the first place, financially or emotionally. I am not in my bed familiar where the time between lovers grew until they were recollections. I am not in my house haunted with wonderings of the years and hours of those who lingered, meandered day and night before me. I feel I am…”not” for I am in a place void of history and seeped in transient comings and goings, one foot in, one foot out. Mostly, I no longer hear the pattering of feet, the scratching of nails on wood and tile. That was the thing that meant life was good. That is the thing I need to get back to.
Massive Attack ~ “Teardrop”
