Into the Half-Light
I looked at my hands and the boundaries between outside and inside dissolved. I had gotten my eyes so used to the fog that many times I couldn’t tell the difference between it and my body.
I often fantasized about the warmth of a beam of light. I thought it would bring clarity and calm amid so many blind steps and swings at the air, but it only made me evaporate and turn into dark humidity, the kind that weighs on you when you breathe it.
In my insistence on living, I began to inhabit the walls as vapor, going deep into the half-light of stone for a century of winters. There, in the stillness of the noisy silence, I had to learn to find my own warmth under rain and sun, not knowing that this is how the little moss is born and makes the walls beautiful.
Moni
IG: @domi_blair
MAY 11, 2024
