Un tempo pensavo che la morte potesse essere nascosta da qualche parte sul nostro corpo. Acquattata dietro la pupilla come una moneta, infilata sotto un’unghia, allacciata attorno a un polso. Una scheggia scura, affilata; una pallottola pallida, libera. Una cosa diversa per ogni persona. La durata di ogni vita predefinita. Il giorno della morte, ti si scioglie dentro a tutto il corpo, calda pallina rotta di sali da bagno. Fino a quel momento, attende – chiusa e muta. Se si sapesse dove cercare si riuscirebbe a trovarla, accoccolata nella piega dell’orecchio ad aspettare pazientemente il giorno giusto.
Aimee BenderIl mondo può anche chiederti di partecipare, ma la decisione di accettare la proposta viene presa di giorno in giorno.
Aimee BenderLa gente si accorge solo di quando te ne vai; se resti non se ne accorgono. E' come quando si sente davvero un ronzio continuo solo dopo che ha smesso.
Aimee BenderHe moved his fingers down her whole spine, one by one by one, and during the time it took to do that, his brain remained absolutely quiet.
It is these empty spaces you have to watch out for, as they flood up with feeling before you even realize what’s happened; before you find yourself, at the base of her spine, different.
When I crossed the street, according to my mother, I still had to hold someone’s hand. At ten, I would be able to cross streets unhanded. I’d held on to Joseph’s many times before, for many years, but holding his was like holding a plant, and the disappointment of fingers that didn’t grasp back was so acute that at some point I’d opted to take his forearm instead. For the first few street crossings, that’s what I did, but on the corner at Oakwood, on an impulse, I grabbed George’s hand. Right away: fingers, holding back. The sun. More clustery vines of bougainvillea draping over windows in bulges of dark pink. His warm palm. An orange tabby lounging on the sidewalk. People in torn black T-shirts sitting and smoking on steps. The city, opening up.
We hit the sidewalk, and dropped hands. How I wished, right then, that the whole world was a street.
Mom’s smiles were so full of feeling that people leaned back a little when she greeted them. It was hard to know just how much was being offered.
Aimee BenderThere was love to be felt, and discovered, still.
Aimee BenderMots clés aimee-bender color-master
It is so often surprising, who rescues you at your lowest moments.
Aimee BenderMots clés aimee-bender color-master
That's the thing with handmade items. They still have the person's mark on them, and when you hold them, you feel less alone.
Aimee BenderMots clés alone handmade aimee-bender color-master
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