| Popis: |
Once it seemed easier to get up into morning, wash and dress, and wait for the bones to heal. Once he wasn’t waiting for the corners of walls to come together or doors to appear, waiting for windows that aren’t mirrors, or waiting for moments that are beds he can get out of. Once he wasn’t waiting to speak and recognize his own voice say, “This is so!” and believe it. Once he could see the world instead of think it. But now everything seems curled back on itself like a mind run over that’s unable to reach or a hand that forgets the way out of a pocket or a foot that sees anywhere to step is wrong. |
