Debridement

Flaxen. The light through the horizontal blinds, casting out and over the hardwood floors not recently loved. The emptiness of the new apartment, did not feel so and in fact the she left the living room in that state for some handful of days, it did not compel, as it ought, her to adorn. She filled it, the apartment, not the aborted living room, in the only way she knew how, with the pattering of unshoed feet and clicks and pops of the vinyls she circled through.

Argentate. Somewhere beyond the dune, behind the collapse of twilight, there were waves crashing. It was not as she would have had it, backwards even. But it was summer rockaway, and as always she felt she took what fate or circumstance gave her. So it was his heavy head and the wild locks of his brown hair in her lap. They had seem so glamorous to her, those strands and his sleepy disinterested eyes, before she had left and then returned. His and her twenty years. He batted slow drunken eyes and asked her for answers he didn’t listen to. She consoled her disappointed, another in the long train of such, with the pleasure of hearing another voice and the half finished short necked bottle of white wine gone warm too long ago.

Titian. The hazy, buzzing, croon of the Edison bulbs. There was music running amuck, around the ankles of the party. Under the voices, popping up between the breaks in laughter, lingering in the skunkish lingering fog. Like so many others, peoples-times-places, she had kicked off her sandals and drifted over the terrain, enjoying the surprising unexpected experience of her sole when it drifted from one thing to the next, brick - plank - crunching grass. It was wednesday and she felt, in some resonating secretive place underneath her heart and between her lungs that they might just live forever.

Aegean. The juniper scraped at her legs, even through the length of her dress. Her hands trailed, caressed and loved the trunks of each passed by tree, that shot like defiant monoliths towards the cold misty sky. The forrest broke. The detritus of the californian beach, despite the crashing waves in that hidden little bay, the whole space was so quiet. That person, as she walked towards the sea, ‘i don’t know if you know, but it is so cold’. She pulled the lengths of her dress to her thighs like some suicidal victorian valiant and strode out into the water. The clawing was real and welcomed, the sky and sea became one and the noise of the emptiness overtook her and in that space to herself she said, ‘i know, god do I know.’