You are yourself and I am myself and we exist in a pattern before a pattern, on an ancient scroll, in a day that has neither sun nor moon. You are the word, I am ink. We have not found each other, though we have soaked through the same thread and have bled from beginning to end. You are nothing and I am nothing, and our nothingness is infinite.
But to exist in nothingness, in its deeps, is to be as lonesome as the word and as deprived as the ink, soaking the never-ending thread of life which has existed since the day that has neither sun nor moon.
-me.
I recently moved back to the Greater Boston Area, after living in Montreal for the last few years. Comparative and international education development,and youth and community development are my occupational passions. I love to write, sing, and paint. I am East and West and neither all at once and dream in different languages. The ocean and art are two of my cherished ‘hobbies’.
