(This is not to anyone in particular. It is a love note to acknowledge the need for affection and connection that we are all wrestling with.)
The voice is the tapping of letters on to a screen. Language now the silent text in pixels. We touch the glass that safely keeps us connected and apart. Photos fill the gaps. The minds slips… autocorrect…. the call is a digital reassembly of impulses from far away zig zagging along airwaves into the slim box in my hand.
I miss the touch of daily activities. Textures. Gestures. Looking in the eyes that catch the light and convey all the nuances of connection. I miss. I miss the exchange of subtlety and curiosity. I miss the you in my world…
I feel the sun. It heats my skin. Its tactile engagement feeds me. The winds messed my hair. The water tastes good…. the earth warms and flowers bloom. I drawn in the scents… I miss the you to share this with.
Shaman @ Large 