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Transplant, TransportBacklit sunsets twist around the interpass, headlights and plans flicker and dissipate. Constant. Severe. This movement folding creases into our anticipated maps. The distance stretching to match the destination, latitude to longitude, relative mathematics. Numbers and letters meant to dictate and define. But I miss streetlights at dusk and scarves tucked into peacoats. I miss the beauty in translation and the sheer magnitude of language, transcending boundaries and the words we wish we had spoken to the ones we could have loved. Craving a hand to hold while casually leaning upon a red brick building that houses a grey sky while you breathe iTransplant, Transport
by ~statuesquecomedown
The Human DispositionSo I sit here upon this grand mass, granite and rock encrusted with the evidence in the form of mossy flowers that there was once a precious accumulation of thriving life. So, I sit and I look out to the starving streams that cut through rock formations to find their way to the settling calm in which they belong. And it feels as if, looking out at this splendid beauty, I should find a sense of fulfillment. But I starve for unanswered questions, a feeling of holding on, the will to let go, and the ability to love myself as an entity that holds a sort of entitlement to the world. I can’t help but feeling like a crusader to the visionaries,The Human Disposition
by ~statuesquecomedown
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