(further impressions of my Friday night friend) She loved men as if they were walls. Dressed in shades of height and presence, when they dreamed they dreamed of solidity and dimension. They promised welcome containment - offered boundaries to stop her drifting apart and away. She’d tried ones made of glass in the past but they always broke too soon. The best ones cast shade and gave her something to lean against. Always welcome to someone so prone to sunburn. Their mood could turn unstable with little warning but their conversation was something to graze her knuckles or her forehead against if the mood took her. The ones she fell for were usually well built and fairly logical - made up of little repetitive parts that she could count and measure, take apart and put back together at her leisure. Which was something, and better than nothing.
2 comments:
I love the unusual parallels drawn between men and walls. I confess I tend to think of people in concrete terms, too, sometimes.
"she loved men as if they were walls" If I read this line at the start of a book I would not be able to put it down - I love these kind of analogies...x
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