He said that his novel is a mutant, displaced autobiography.
And his words brought this place to mind. Although it would not bear even a passing comparison to his novel.
Because I'm here, displaced.
Mutated into somebody that I'm not supposed to be.
Transposed to somewhere I'm not supposed to be.
Reversed and mirrored.
Without her.
Surely I'm not supposed to be without her?
Supposed, supposed, supposed.
So often repeated that I see it for the nonsense that it is.
Except in my heart. Where it makes perfect sense.
Oh Catherine, I'm sorry that these days are so difficult. Just keep on writing and talking through it. I'm here if you need me.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad it came back.
ReplyDeleteI'm always sad when they go.
CiM
"Except in my heart. Where it makes perfect sense."
ReplyDeleteI think the heart is so much more intelligent than the mind. I really do.
Displaced, too. :(
Sending you love, beautiful friend xo
ReplyDeleteSupposed - there's a world of tragedy in that one little word.
ReplyDelete