(no subject)

I walked out on my back porch like I do most mornings, to look at the sun through the trees before hitting the road. This morning, it was clear and bright; almost overnight, the green explosion started, making everything look super alive, super present. The swelling of my heart that I usually feel when I see this expanded multifold when I turned to see my beloved backing up the driveway, wholly absorbed by that process, and the immediate realization of the depth and degree to which I love this person.

liquid sort-of semiotics

me, on words:

it's a nebulous, kind of visual feeling: the "things" are large, flattened globish objects, probably liquid, and the surface has a high tensile strength, but also vow friction, so some words stick, but even words that have been in place for ages can slide off if something nudges them just right