in the last 20 minutes of ambient light - the heart of dusk, i sunk into the bath; melting myself to the scalding water and gentle push. it took me on like a champion. I, the weary warrior and fragile beacon; like the last leaf of november.
it's here i swear i could hear ghosts whisper & the earth talking in every bellow and resounding crack. it murmurs:
"ash, you have no patience anymore and winter was too hard on you; too long for the girl in dresses..."
the light is only silhouetting the window and the tips of my limbs.
i pull on this morning's washcloth with my toes, and move my legs
where i can
pretend that i'm a mermaid or a leaf and can float as free as either, though my body remains rooted and resolute - 8 days from it's 28th birthday.
and it's becoming quite apparent that i'm torn between almost everything, except the desire to break free with the simplicity of tomorrow's offering: heading east and onward on the dirty open road.
these letters will comprise the rambling & imagery of the next 30-some days. they either mean nothing or everything, and i've got my pen & polaroid folded like treasures into my backpack.
so, we'll see...
see you in chicago.
ps. to my retreat attendees: today i got each of you something over 100 years old. can't wait to give them to all of you.