the work it takes to be someone's friend can sometimes be exhausting. I spent most of my day trudging through the deep mass of my own malaise to pull someone out of their quicksandy muck, because sometimes it hurts to know someone and know that they're drowning in their own thoughts for no good reason at all.
and yet, it was a beautiful day.
there's something to be said for selfless acts and the joy of knowing another person.
everything I notice is appreciated and everything I do gets noticed. it's a weird exchange we have, an odd intimacy that begs for more, yet the idea of actually being intimate [naked and dirty] seems so absurd and unlikely and awkward.
for now, there is the unfolding of his origami shapes and I love to languish in his words.
we travelled to chinatown and I got to be a psuedo tour guide. [it made me miss natalia terribly.] there we were, sitting among a place that was foreign and new and seemed to hold its own set of rules and have its own sense of time and space, where people weren't in a hurry to arrive somewhere and no one was talking on their cell phones and it was perfect. there was nothing we had to do and nowhere to be. I think we both needed that.
a father chased his child on the sidewalk and peals of laughter rose from their lips, a well dressed couple sought out their dinner companions, sculptures presided over a square that seemed built for tai chi practice, and dried food items of the most amazing variety--from sea horses to gnarled ginger roots, to thin ivory dics of abalone to gargantuan mushrooms--all gave off a musty, smoky, heady odor. it was exactly what I prescribed: a change of scenery and an overwhelment of the senses.
he is teaching me a new brand of patience and exploration, the sort I have never been able to grasp.
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