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August 15, 2008 / calebdresser

Snow Angel

Copied from my journal, dated July 29th, 2008. I wrote this on the sixteen hour bus ride through the Himalaya from Leh to Keylong, proving once again that prolonged physical stress and isolation can lead people to come up with some really weird shit : )


I set my boots on the road. Looked back a couple times, didn’t much like what I saw. Ahead was worse, to be sure, but at least I was moving. Can’t stop, can’t stagnate, decay before death a mind-killer. Endless sweaty plains and towns in twilight. Faces and eyes demonic in the harsh fluorescent glow of sunset. Dust in my mouth then. Dry tasteless times I cannot speak or be heard. Mountains in endless crumbling legions. Gilded cage. Murderous roads one way, murderous men the other. Brother when a brother in need – I offer myself again to the shattering grip of the passes. Twisted metal in the river below me. A shorter road, that. Mine still moving, eyes on sand and tar and broken rock. A screeching noisy silence. Inside outside disconnect, mind flits past motionless stones. Empty heart, empty mind; I leave the empty things behind, broken clay pot-shards crumbling into dust. I wrap my life around me in the gigantic echoing chill, pashmina wool soft on the back of my neck. So soft only a girl’s hand can truly appreciate it, the man in the shawl shop said. I must trust his word – there is no one here to put it to the test. Still, the pattern is pretty. See there? Bright new threads in blue and silver and green and gold. I’ve been doing some embroidering again – spend most of my time on it, now that you mention it. The hem? Yes, sometimes weft and weave part ways, precious strands separate from the fabric and waft away on the furious wind. Even the silver and gold of the pattern in the center do no insulate very well. It can leave a person cold. Come, friend, lets not dwell on that. Look here in the middle again – dazzling, isn’t it? Try swishing that around the room,  flash of colors and sparkle of bright metals. Unless someone tries to grasp it in their hands and hold it, they will not notice the frayed, threadbare edges until they catch in the door on the way out. But – you are shivering! Take a corner and wrap yourself. It doesn’t keep you warm? Hmm. Perhaps I’ve some mending to do – but all I’ve got in my sewing bag is embroidery-thread.


There were shooting stars just before dawn, icy streaks in an inky sky. I did not know what to wish for.



One Comment

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  1. Jessie C / Sep 11 2008 1:08 am

    You wrote this entry on my birthday. Clearly I am doing my catching up now. Your writing has me mesmerized. You are truly a talented individual Kale. It’s inspiring.

    I could think of only one thing in the whole world I’d ever wish for again. Have you found yours yet?

    A big HUG for you across oceans, mountains, valleys, rivers, deserts… but yet, somehow I know it’ll get there.

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