D E L I R I U Mtrilogy: locations → T h e W i l d s
Trees close in around us, l e a v e s and b u s h e s press on me from all sides, brushing my face and shins and shoulders like t h o u s a n d s of dark hands, and from all around me a strange cacophony starts up, of fluttering things and owls hooting and animals scrabbling in the underbrush. The air smells so thickly of flowers and life it feels t e x t u r e d, like a curtain you could pull apart.
D E L I R I U Mtrilogy: locations → Back Cove, East End Beach
My sister used to stay on the s h o r e and build sand c a s t l e s, and we would pretend that they were real cities, like we’d s w u m all the way to the other side of the world, to the u n c u r e d places.
Maybe it would be better if we didn’t love. If we didn’t lose either. If we didn’t get our hearts stomped on, shattered: if we didn’t have to patch and repatch until we’re like Frankenstein monsters, all sewn together and bound up by who knows what. If we could just float along, like snow.
And now I know why they invented words for love, why they had to: It’s the only thing that can come close to describing what I feel in that moment, the baffling mixture of pain and pleasure and fear and joy, all running sharply through me at once.