She thought she was falling apart into landscape unfamiliar and strange. Not what she wanted but some breaking open with no way to breathe in open air, open sky. How, how to navigate through desert, where wandering in any direction makes little difference to change. Come, rain! Come, storm! She drifts, drifts in a place both too large and too loud and too bleak and too small and fails fails to recognize her own voice. Do you know it? Do you hear it? she asks. In the desert place where turning turning becomes habitual, consequential, instinctual. Sand in her heart and her eyes. This post appeared originally at jenniferjcamp.com
