topography - topology

I am tracing the contours of life with hands as large as small towns. The surfaces feel smooth. Even the most jagged things appear like pebbles rounded over time.

It is quick work, like reading the news; voraciously taking in every word with a hunger for change, any change. I take in the words and images, but as soon as they pass, I forget them. I stop at the end of each article and try to recall the main points, but have trouble forming coherent sentences and recalling what I just read.

It all comes out to what I already know, which feels bearable, yet small and confined, until I get to a tree full of birds I can’t see. The birds are noisy, creating a massive wall of sound. I look up at the blue sky where all that sound is heading, following the path of daylight.