"I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love's not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I'll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time..." --Sylvia Plath
There are times when all I see is the future. Blue water carrying me to shore. Words written and rewritten and discovered and loved. Miles in distance but close to home. Fear as preparation for joy. Smells and sounds and tastes and sights previously fantasized. Everything new in respect to the old.
posted @ 12:09 PM
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