I’ve recently been thinking a lot about a blue piano. For some reason unknown to me, I really would like an old fashioned blue piano with a lock and an old key. I want to paint it myself and give new life to an old piano.
I want herbs to grow in the windowsill and hang them upside down in the kitchen to dry. Or maybe they have to be on a wire rack somewhere dry? I don’t know how to do these things, but I want to try.
The past infinity months have given me a taste for life, I once had but somehow forgot about. Now I want. Not in a greedy way, but eagerly. I want to stack rocks, dance and walk in the forest with my king and queen attached to each hip. I want openness and connection. I want to be wild and soft.
I want a blue piano…
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My breath catches in the box of my chest. Whose bread has been stolen? Whose travels have been circumscribes? Whose eye will be taken? How can we make a broken world home again? I don’t believe that words can answer these questions, not in the way we use them now.…