Throwing Voice

Posted: June 16, 2012 in Uncategorized

The first cold snap of the year creates this frosty, smoky air that slides down the lungs and coats them with a sharp, addictive pain that is taken in gulps and in gasps.

Young people smile at each other across cups of steaming teas and ciders, yet still stand outside in their jackets and gloves, getting the best of both ends of the thermometer before going home to their one and two-bedroom apartments or to the rooms still graciously offered to them by their parents.

The rest of us walk the street, hand in glove, glove in pocket, just braving the cold because it reminds us most of the true face of the world: dying, unfriendly, harsh. It gives us a chance to experience natural honesty, no hems and haws, no misdirections, no false plays on hope. Just a moon, some clouds, a soft burn of the flesh, and the visible heat leaving the  mouth like vitality itself drawing out second by second.

Then we come back to our front doors, thawing back to warmth, taking a hot bath and climbing under blankets, recreating the warmth of parental love and development only to be shoved out into the world once more by sunrise of the next day.

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