Even in his sleep he talked, keeping her awake throughout the night. During all the dark hours during all his dreams, his face echoed the phrases he formed: mouth widening, lips moving, brows rising and falling, eyes squinting and opening. The hands held more: stretching, spinning, circling, waving, tracing arcs and swirls and angles above his supine body, a constant dance of words rising and falling with his long fingers on the air. Letters formed words formed sentences formed paragraphs formed stories. He rocked the bed with his talk. Each night she staggered to the floor, seasick, seeking silence, stillness.
Photo credit: Caye Newell
I strive to be this good.
Words chosen with care and used with an artist’s touch. Wonderful job.
Your article was terrific!
Love this, A!
Yo, Adrienne! Very cool.