Monday, October 06, 2008
where theres a will
Cocooned in faded brown sleeves. She looks down at her arms, spindled and bent and moving very little, and wonders if she could pass for a tree. If she stood still in the park would people overlook her. Would the little white dog cock its leg in her direction. Would that girl with the faraway smile come and sit beneath her as she ties and unties knots in that piece of blue string she always carries. She looks at that string like most girls look at a best friend - only more unique, more treasured. Not like something she’ll have lost and forgotten by the time she’s wearing faded brown sleeves.