baelgia’s Reviews > Y/N > Status Update

meta*** 😭

The sound of my own voice was starting to make me sick. Why wasn't I capable of the seriousness of simplicity?

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Metal

Yet we gave each other meaning.
I was his hell, he my heaven. We were indispensable to each other in our separation. I understood this with new clarity now that we were together in this house, closer than we'd ever been before. Perhaps this panel of wood, precisely for dividing us, was the only way to sustain the strength of our connection. But what would happen if we destroyed it for good?

He moved back and forth over my room, his pauses occurring more and more in my proximity. My ceiling, his floor— this panel of wood had been set in place so that we wouldn't crash into each other with the violence of desire. The world, with its stolid rules concerning the final balance of all matter, would never let the amassment of our energy go unchecked. Would we always have to be so apart?

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i'll spare us all me quoting like 4 pages of this book

[...] a place of far greater dimensions, an incalculable realm of possibility where encounters between individuals were rich and oxidizable like the gashed flesh of a peach.

From each of the three stacks emerged a column of smoke that subsequently collapsed to the side from its own weight. The smoke thickened along the way, darkening in color, gaining bold contour. It replenished itself with vigor.

We crave the truth of an easy sensation. We want to fight and desire, to have favorite things. We want the heavy fist of the world to press down on each of us and crystallize a personality into being. But everything remains at a distance. We don't know how to meet the eyes of a stranger on the street. We don't even know how to enjoy the weather.

I realized, hundreds of hands were opening and clenching, hitting and grazing, yearning to land upon a gesture of beauty, like that of a dancer. But then I pictured the buildings falling apart and disgorging these hundreds of hands, all of them grasping for something to hold onto but finding nothing but air.

I swept my gaze across the apartment complexes. Then something moved. An arm was jutting out from the top floor of a building, its hand swinging lazily at the wrist. Almost as soon as I saw it, the hand stopped moving. Then it vanished. I imagined it gliding away from the window into a dark room. Perhaps it was now doing the dishes or ironing a shirt. Inside all of these bulwarks of metal and concrete,

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