This afternoon was in between, half-finished coffee, all the pieces of yourself that wanted to sleep, or work, or do something, despite the heat and the tingling sensation on your back from too long spent on the beach in the sun and the salt from the water and the first swim of the year, entering the water at the count of three and emerging from the cold yelling out loud, so loud, feeling free enough to roar, and good to be alive and now, after lunch, crunchy roast chicken and the taste of garlic linger on your tongue, everything is in between, for the evening has not yet come and the house is napping and the coffee is waiting, waiting to be drunk, for the light to fade and the waves to return to the shore.
2 comments:
In-between is a good place to be! Although often enough I struggle with it, wanting things to be clear, outlined, precise - in the end in-between is where the moment unfolds, allowing an idea to shape, a sentence to form, an image that stayed elusive while it was ardently searched for to unblur.
Wonderful that you sent off your manuscript! Now I want to know about your detective story (reading Batya Gur) and what made you laugh working on it, and thanks for working out how to leave a comment on the a-n website! Oh, and you swam in the sea...
Yes, in-between, I am quite enjoying that fuzzy not quite somewhere space at the moment, slipping from one place to another, letting deadlines fly ( just a little bit!)
Have just finished Murakami, so I've just ordered Batya Gur- looks brilliant. Have you read Fred Vargas?
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