singular and indivisible
i can almost sense the coming snow- that cold scent on tip of the nose. it's not here yet. but it'll be.
my best friend here in toronto is gone to see his friends. the house is empty. soon, i will be out of the door as well. it's a weird feeling to be so alone in such a big place, where there is enough energy to keep one awake till deep night hours. my building is 34 floors high. there is no floor thirteen. still, that make it possible to host at least 800 some people. often it feels as if im more connected out of my own bird cage. though, recently, i have been real rubbish on spending time with friends. they are busy. i understand. i know. and i am also busy- for what, i am not so sure.
we all desperately try to connect to one another, cling on to that fading sense of- togetherness. not just simultaneous but of co-existing and living together.
as i pass beautiful things, i think of my granny- it's been snowy and icy and it's not very easy for her to walk around by herself anymore in such weather. she's housebound, with no jail walls and no guard. i often wish to bring her something fresh, something beautiful. but usually the best i can do is a bag of candies and such.
as i see siblings bickering, i think of wee brother, though he is under the frozen january winter ground, quiet. i write letters to him. i cant really post them. i wonder if anyone have posted an address-less envelop to their loved ones, letting the confused post system to figure it out- what would happen to them? i suppose they are eventually disposed.
as i yield to friends talking, with animated hands, walking and taking the small path on sidewalk, covered and occupied ed by the snow banks, i think of friends who i wish to be with. but they've been busy- following the direction of their own little waves, as they should. and it's a pity that it is becoming more difficult to find the time to see them in person- so they drift away, i feel, one inch at a time. minnow is currently existing in pixelated forms and digitized sound. he tries to swim with me, to weave, every chance he gets. we do our best. sometimes he' a bit far though.
so on a quiet saturday evening, i will be heading out, to ride the subway, with many others. we'll simultaneously board the car and empty out when it reaches our mutual destination. but they may be just as alone, as i am. i carry the wee blue rabbit with me, clutching it in my pocket. a gesture full of hope. i am not alone.
or am i
with quiet playing of brad mehldau ringing through my ears, i am looking into the city. it is now snowing. millions of flakes, all different. i wonder if they also feel lonely at times, as i do, sometimes.