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Tuesday, 13 June 2006
To leave.
Bereft on interest and respect, where are we left standing? The crumbling hallway should be a site, is a site, of reflection and contest. The subject has been chosen. The carcass is prepared, careworn adjectives bleed the nouns dry. A piece is formed.
But actually, the battlefields of carpet have grown tiresome, the thrill for the chase has diminished and now these age old disputes rankle and murmur. The house stands alone on a row of identical terraces, near the corner and the park. We are the ones who are diminished.
In leaving, coming back is denied as an option. Drastic measures are spoken. There is no possibility of return; what has not been remembered and carried forward, will be forgotten.
11:31 Posted in Confessional | Permalink | Comments (0) | Email this