hello my rosy self again
While I don't forget you for a second, I don't remind myself every moment either. And much like We Are Augustines; tear up the photograph 'cause it's a bright blue sky!
Sometimes all it takes is to hear the right song at the right time; melodies to make you realise, lyrics to make you. What's broken can't always be fixed, what's shakin can't always be steadied. There's something so surreptitious in the way the head and the heart figure it out well enough to survive the walk down the aisle. What's in an aisle; a journey, a destination, a defeat, a retreat, copious amounts of choices, a knight in shining armour, a departed hero. And we're all just walking here, moving, revolving, crippling or sprinting, we're all walking. Single file, hand-in-hand, or in one of those obnoxious groups that spread themselves over the entire width of the walkway (you know the one's, when you're doing your once-a-year promenade run and five people are spread out blocking any through-gap), either way, walking to move. Forward, and around, backward - as long as you're moving. Keeping busy, keeping your soul busy, otherwise it rots and the aisle narrows itself to a maze of depths and darkness. Tear up the photographs - the stillness that was once. It's a bright blue sky - so ready for us, ingress.
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