Thinking

Romance

I’m standing on a ledge. Don’t look down.

Falling in love is something I probably don’t know much about, but I can feel free to enjoy as it happens. Like skydiving. Like plunging to your doom and you only remember the parachute when you’re half way there. Or when someone tells you.

When you consider every step so very carefully, it becomes difficult to move. A game of chess. It becomes different when you do it to time: so much less of a logical thrill and more the pleasure of a burning strategy, a plan to outmatch rather than carefully prove or disprove. A game should not be a thing of abstract theories, it’s said. A game should mimic life.

Looking down, looks as if I’m going to try falling for a change. Maybe someone will catch me.

Thinking as I do, I find out many things. But I can still become tired, lethargic, like the old masters of old. Thinking as I do, miss out many things. In considering the one linear sequence, I lose the others. Lateral gets great praise, I hear.

If I look at my feet, put my hands to my sides, I’ll start to slip forwards, or backwards.

I don’t like that. I’d rather know what I’m doing. I’d rather jump.

I don’t want to skid on ice, I don’t want to wince over the edge, I don’t want to be pushed – if I’m pushed I’ll try to stay. That you can’t do. Look down.

The lights and streams and colours and winds and the air, the air for miles it seems, the space is thick with the air.

I’m going to fall once I’ve jumped, and if I fall, maybe someone will catch me.

Before I go too far.

Without a parachute.

I’m going to jump.

Reblogged from Hippocras.wordpress.com, now in stasis.

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