said worrying. Then Boredom settled down into the kitchen, and the the knife cutting through carrot made the sound that a knife makes when it cuts through an onion through a pepper through cabbage. When the world (everything,) is under a blanket, it is impossible to feel intimate with anything at all, because there is too much detail. The cloud were a blanket. Worrying finally realized it had no place in the kitchen and left. What a relief for everyone involved it started raining.
When his father came smiling and dripping home, he glowed by the fire. His father was always coming home, he never left home, but was always coming home. When the gray of the short winter days came, his father became much more intimate with his surroundings because they were all he knew, he wasn't ignorant, he was so aware and then content.
"I am not unlike my father," the words spoke to a spice rack that came from places he'd never seen,but that was before Worrying left. when Worrying left, there was a solemn serenity within Finn. and he realized he was quite unlike his father.
down from the cliffs, the sea mangled in itself and magnetised the oceans of Finn's heart to churn and lapse and digress as well. Down, from the widow, onto the street. The sea of the people ready to catch the rain in their hair pushed and pulled nothing within him. Happiness had walked past outside his apartment door, but had not even knocked, and was accompanied by the managerie of other wet sentiments that had drowned and were slowly draining out of Finn's heart.
About Me
- IOKNO
- No-one is ever poor who has the sight of his eyes and the use of his feet. A poor man never yet lost his property- Irish Proverb
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Black day
It was a black day. It must have been the shadows cast by the ominous sky. Or how the rain reflected the cold basement lair onto the pavement. Or that black van.
As much as Marissa morbidly savored the cold lonliness of Washington Heights, she couldn't helped but be scared to death by the black van. Screeching, zooming, roaring, shooting its way down Baker Street. Then a scorching turn, an icy splash of rain against the basement windows, and it was gone. Again, the early dawn was black.
And black the day would remain. No sunlight to dispel the dark, damp chill of the menacing Baltimore landscape. Concrete, urban, impersonal -- it was all black.
If Marissa had experienced an Emo phase in high school, she might have suffered a relapse. But she didn't -- she was too busy with... too busy, enough said. She didn't have time for sulking and misery. She did, this morning, however, have time to throw on a stark black shirt, durable jeans, and some don't-even-try black pumps.
No black eye shadow. Never. To the residents of Washington Heights, Marissa would never appear in the least bit discouraged. Only Oscar recognized the subtle mood shifts, hidden by her strikingly beautiful presentation. Oh, Oscar. The closest thing Marissa had to a friend in Washington Heights -- the closest thing she had to reliability.
Well, there were the loony late night drunks. She could always count on them. Like Kevin, for instance, one of the usual suspects. He was a fellow Hopkins student, but about as different as Marissa as she could possibly imagine. And never a chance. Some of her university friends thought him cute -- in a creepy, awkward sort of way -- but he didn't exude the odor of success. And as unsuperficial as Marissa tried to be, she couldn't resist the sweet smell of money.
She wandered toward Oscar's thinking about boys. A rarity, surprisingly. It must have been the introspective nature of the morning. The blackness.
Kevin -- nope. Finn -- too young. Marissa chuckled -- 30 or older, with at least an M.D. Charlie was kind of cute -- maybe for a one-night stand -- but, ooo, Marissa caught herself. She didn't do one night stands. Well, no, Oscar doesn't count. He's just Oscar.
He was safe. And she liked safety. No one could blame her -- she was Massachusetts girl caught in a Chesapeake ghetto. So she walked toward Oscar's, eyes forlorn, gazing into the bleak blackness, and she hoped for a different day. For a girl so driven, so motivated, so focused, Marissa could not even escape the overwhelming decay of Washington Heights.
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