March 6, 2016.
I’m not sure what to write, or even if I should write anything. I am not sure of the consequences or effects. Yet something beckons me to write. To feel the keys pressed beneath my fingers, letters at a time, all coming together to form words, – and to form what, what… I don’t know. The ‘unknown’ calls. The allure.
What is on the other side? What can be expected? But no – there is nothing to be expected, not specifically, anyway. Though, I can expect the unknown, I can expect ‘something’, whatever that may be. The origami bird sitting on the water/paint wrinkled paper, in the afternoon light. It is attached by white thread to a twig, broken from a stick picked up from the front yard grass, last Summer. It is Winter now, and I sit inside.
So much is given by the Sun’s light-of-day. It is such a gift. Though it fades soon, it will be a gift often given; just wait until the next day. Photos can be taken in daylight. All you have to do is click the button.
The origami bird, made of origami paper, attached by a thread. It hung, – so I took it down, because I grew tired of seeing it hang in the same spot so long, day after day.