Solitary madwoman



Oh, this night air!

There is familiarity here, at this uneasy border between today and tomorrow, like a lost love returned from abroad — in how it transforms sound, enhancing the unfamiliar but muffling everything else, or the way it hangs heavy but high, as if unable to decide whether to descend and become morning.

There is power here — or is it fear? This lonely emptiness breeds one or the other, and there’s no telling them apart. Not here. We are all mad in our solitude.

There is temptation here, too, hours to spend in this moment, if only it had any to give. But daylight is held by the thinnest of threads, and is late, too late now. I know I should not be out, and remember: there are sirens in these waters.

Once, this was my element, but no more. I am worn, weak, too easily steered off-course. But still—

Can you hear? They are calling.

tags: ariadne , night , photo

  • Miranda

    It's July now - time to update! love Miranda

  • Yeah, but you always say that...

  • Thank you both (aww, Loli, love you too!) -- I have to admit, though, when I first posted this I was sure it was the worst entry I'd ever written.

  • Loli

    You triggered memories of stealing out into the dark in my nightgown and standing in a field worshiping the ivory moon, feeling so very small under the vast velvet sky.

    This is why I love you. :)

  • This piece works, but I had to really study it. (Could that be as you meant it?) Still, I got more out of it than I put into it. And for that, I am in your debt again.

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