The other side

There's some sort of plasmic, magnetic, what have you, field between here and HOME. The others are falling through, one by one. "Rie left the 23rd." "Ah, oui." "And you?" "The 16th." "That's soon." "Ah, oui." It's as if you're gone forever once on the other side. You're not. You'll see the others in the future. But, will you ever be on this side of the shield at a moment like this, talking of Taiwanese government or a certain professor who smoked too much? The sun is brillant now. The tourists pass through like ants. Aix is chic-er than ever before with it's cafés, boutiques, and markets. I finally feel like a part of the charm--never true Frenchie, but charming. I lived here. I've seen the streets in focus and out.


I'm struggling with my feelings for this place, wanting to love it for the sun, knowing the loneliness it provoked. I'm struggling with my feelings for America, wanting to love it for it's love and hate it for it's hate. I know that I don't hate America. I feel a greater love. I now understand what it means to be American. It's not America that hoards and abuses as it pleases, but people make a mess--whether in the US, France, Japan, Taiwan, Russa...

I want to detest. I want to be discontented with every country I cross. I no longer like this earth. Honestly. Give me something else.

Give me God. Once again, my rambling points me in one direction. I want to find beauty, My Dear, and swim again through peace or daffodils or clouds or iced tea. I want to let go. I'm gripping something but don't know what it is and I want to release. I can't. Or won't. I want to be the thorn in Your side, My Dear.

...