GARFIELD / HISTORY
12.2.20
I’ll tell you what the hardest part has been:
Becoming content with the light in the window, and the thud thud of sometimes soft, sometimes angry feet.
We’re not so different, us humans and waves. Making homes along any shore we touch. If we learn how to forgive ourselves for getting the sand wet, we may even be salvagable.
You’ve got me backwards. This really is not, and has nothing to do with disposition. See, if you choose to paint me rose, make sure you add the thorns.
It’s more a question of weather my thorns and I draw blood, solely because we have teeth. Or because we are touched by wild, untrained hands.
There must be some type of beginning, by the end of this.