The sky keeps holding its breath. Or maybe it is more accurate to say that it keeps making me hold my breath, because it keeps looking like it's gonna snow but it just keeps raining and not snowing. And holding my breath for snow is strangely self-defeating and self-deceptive and self-blinding (errmm self-noseplugging. METADUH) anyways because if I would just give in and take that swoosh of air into my lungs, my nostrils and my nostrils' little hairs and my nostrils' little hairs' sensory things (MMM SCIENCE) would be like oh! hay it doesn't smell like pre-snow atmosphere at all! and let my silly brain know.
But alas.
Only Wednesday and it has already been (half) a week full of breathlessness and "But alas"s.
1. Derek Walcott, lovechild of Yeats and St. Lucia, catches me off guard and leaves me confused because I don't get it but I love it, his poetry.
2. Jonne Dohn, who makes me feel like I'm choking. A terrible kind of breathless.
3. New Cabell trek up to the fifth floor that inspired a moment of community among three strangers this morning at 8:59am, commiserating and urging one another on, onward, onto the next floor! you can do it! - we were a makeshift sports team for those few moments of walking up those steps. Six coordinatedly burning thighs, three pairs of lungs running pitifully out of breath, one collection of random individuals who shared that connection and just as quickly parted ways, wishing each other well for the the rest of our days.
4. This, which I didn't even fully read for class today. which makes my heart beat faster. which was written by a man whose full-time job was in investment banking. which catches my breath, but which inspires me to breathe on.
In other news, I anxiously await Thanksgiving Break.
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