Ok I'll save my wordiness for the next meeting. Below is the story contrived by the six of us:
I want to capture air in photographs. I want to sew laughter to my skirt. I want to bring the scent of my flowers in my pocket.
Being able to touch me doesn’t mean we are close.I sometimes think that it would be easier to let go of such memories of you and I, sitting at the ends of the world.Cyberspace draws us nearer, but really, the closer we are, the less we touch.
Thoughts known without a connection to the sensory.A black rod running through a building, passing floors, going unseen;A fish swimming across a coast, going uncaught;a person chugging whisky, without getting drunk.This is intangible.
Wading through a pond of watercrest infused jello,I feel worried.
1,about my skin
1,about my wife
1,about my world,wobbling off it’s axis. Back into the womb from where is wondered, what if…
I drift away from the conscious realm to question;to question where I came from, who am I?why am I here?
Feel free to correct me if there are any grammertical errors.