pillango

a late update, i know. but i was suddenly overcome by a thought i thought had long been gone. it is so persisnant and hammers at my head at such a rate that i cannot even put into words just yet. i'll let jeanette winterson speak for me. here she comes.

'Will you understand? I am not sure that I understand it myself. Give me your hand. Put it into my mouth. Kiss you. Tongue, teeth, language. My words forming in bubbles under your fingers. Water and air. Hope. I want to tell you.. and so I go diving for the words, bringing them back in glittering nets, spilled over our feet as we stand amazed at the sea. I want to tell you how... and so these are words speared for you, tasted for you, fed one by one. Words kept salted when they cannot be found fresh. Words kept fresh when they cannot be found clean. The words go deeper, far out of reach of vessels, blood vessels bursting, that thick humming in my head. To find these words, just out of reach, beyond my hand, the coral of it, pearl of it, fish.

'Am I a pearl fisher? To crack out of the dumb of the eloquent? Take this, dissolve it in wine, drink it and speak to me. Does it loosen your tongue? What marvellous things we would say if we could. What of the stories still to be told? There are Arabian Nights in your eyes. If we are in the desert, then speak the wadi. If we are in the earthquake then speak the rock. Put your hand in my mouth. Kiss me. Tongue, teeth, language. Bucket up the words and wash in them. If we are in the water speak salt tears.

' I want to tell you how much... the expanse of us, unhindered, stretch of sea-bird wings on starboard. Stars in your eyes, the infinity of you, the galaxy of my girl that I explore. The much of you was more than I dared hope for. Treasure is the stuff of legends. Gold in the mine of you. Mine own gold. I thought you were a jewelled bird of the kind Byzantine emperors kept. Rare, fabulous, told of but unseen. What words for a plumage like yours? The surprise of wings was this love. We did escape gravity. If i flew too close to the sun, forgive me. Water claims her own at last. You were the one who understood the theory of flight. You were the one who taught me the aerodynamics of risk. I should have trusted you. The failure was mine, Alice, not the pain of having spoken and said nothing. Not the pain of words that splinter in the throat. Call every speck of me by right. Letter me. I say your name as a spell and leave my last word here as yours. I want to tell you how much I love you. You.