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Jul. 20th, 2011 01:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
proximoceptionYou feel you need to warn them, that for them there's time, that it's not how it looks, that a walk down the same hallway five years later isn't the same kind of walk, even if it's been just one walk down just one hallway, this same hallway no one's ever reached the end of, but you don't know how, and then you feel you can't, and then you don't want to, and then you don't.
You feel they can still walk different where they are, or take precautions to walk as much the same as long as they can, or maybe walk facing backwards to not lose not just the walk but the hall back there, that in case it's the hall and not the walk they can find something fixed, hang on for dear life amid the rush, maybe take some picture or table with them when overborne, but you're not sure it they can, not sure it's how you'd thought for a second, here one is and she doesn't seem particularly happy, kind of troubled and dumb if anything, in that way they have of being troubled and dumb while so young, like the biggest bear in the world with a toothache, forgetting to love its many beautiful gigantic ache free teeth, maybe loving them anyway without knowing it.
You get up the courage to say it to them, to find an English for it, but what you mean is French, and you suspect from their faces what they hear is German, and their questions back are impossible, probably dog.
Soon what you say sounds like dog to you too and you stop. You speak but stop saying, the way people can for five years, for what seems like five years, but a five years unlike any actual five years, any five years so different from the five years before.
Five years later, at the end of the hallway, a dog barks a warning.
You feel they can still walk different where they are, or take precautions to walk as much the same as long as they can, or maybe walk facing backwards to not lose not just the walk but the hall back there, that in case it's the hall and not the walk they can find something fixed, hang on for dear life amid the rush, maybe take some picture or table with them when overborne, but you're not sure it they can, not sure it's how you'd thought for a second, here one is and she doesn't seem particularly happy, kind of troubled and dumb if anything, in that way they have of being troubled and dumb while so young, like the biggest bear in the world with a toothache, forgetting to love its many beautiful gigantic ache free teeth, maybe loving them anyway without knowing it.
You get up the courage to say it to them, to find an English for it, but what you mean is French, and you suspect from their faces what they hear is German, and their questions back are impossible, probably dog.
Soon what you say sounds like dog to you too and you stop. You speak but stop saying, the way people can for five years, for what seems like five years, but a five years unlike any actual five years, any five years so different from the five years before.
Five years later, at the end of the hallway, a dog barks a warning.
