ManicDDaily

Hard to adjust to a new day after the death of a friend.  The burden of sadness seems to sink into one’s joints (not to mention eyes, chest, forehead).

All day yesterday, I was poignantly conscious of the joy of a body.  What a delight it is when it works.  To simply move — to move simply– is an actual physical pleasure when all the parts are in order, more or less.  To stretch one’s legs, swing one’s arms, feel gravity beneath the feet.  To be touched by air, much less another person.

To eat!

Apricots!

Even less than ripe apricots!

So tart, almost like plums.  (Less than ripe plums.)  With that same inner coolness, but a soft blushed cheek.  Peel.  Skin.  Body.