Where's the fire, Lucy Dervish?'
In me. Under my skin.
Humor without sadness is just pie in the face
Cath CrowleyI read somewhere that spiders can spin silk strong enough to hold the weight of a thousand trucks. I tried to imagine those lines of silver, thinner than air, stronger than steel. Sometimes I think that a hundred webs, invisible gossamers, connect Gracie and me. They coat our bodies, tie our limbs together, link our hearts. They can stretch across cities, countries – even anger. Unbreakable. I felt them that first time I watched her play soccer.
She needed to win so badly. I watched a new Gracie crack out of her cocoon that day. Grey, moth-like, she seemed covered in a dust that let her take to the air. Fly. They’re beautiful things, moths, with their dark patterned wings hooking on wind to push them forward. You have to be careful with them, though. Brush them just lightly, and they can’t fly anymore.
Tags: family soccer mother-daughter gracie-faltrain mum-daughter
some of my most beautiful glass pieces have
cracks running through them and I like them anyway because of the colours.
I made you collapsible. I put you in and raised you with string and made you stay
there with putty.
So I saw Beth today. She asked me how you were doing. Sounded like she wants you back."
"We were over months ago."
"You mind if I ask her out, then?"
"You mind if I spray a piece on the side of your gran's house?
She looks at me and at Dave. She looks out the curtain and strums her guitar. "Yeah," she says. "Oh yeah. This I can do.
Cath CrowleyI look up after the last chord and smile. I tell Antony Barellan to shove it up his arse, and I see Dad clapping his hands off. I give him a little wave to show him that it's okay to be happy. I give him a little smile to show him what it looks like.
Cath CrowleyI looked up from that other place and saw Dave staring through the glass. I thought: That guy is a little gratitude, world peace, a new acoustic guitar, a bass guitar and hands that play like Flea, and the single "Break Your Heart" all at once. He smiled and waved. I'm sick of staring at what I want, I thought. I'd do anything to hold it in my hands.
Cath CrowleyWho's this?" Dad asks when a catchy tune comes on the CD mix I made for the trip. We pass the skeleton tree that never has leaves, no matter what the time of year. Bare gray branches wave us on. "No one you know Dad," I say. It's me.
Cath Crowley« first previous
Page 12 of 18.
next last »
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.