lost
trans·late
v. trans·lat·ed, trans·lat·ing, trans·lates
v. tr.
To render in another language.

To put into simpler terms; explain or interpret.
To express in different words; paraphrase.

To change from one form, function, or state to another; convert or transform: translate ideas into reality.
To express in another medium.
To transfer from one place or condition to another.


And there is that moment, when you turn and walk out of that room, closing the door, walking alone down that hallway to your own room, when everything sort of shivers with longing. The imagined sound of the door opening behind you and footsteps approaching softly and without hesitation. Every cell in your body vibrates with the desire to be touched, to be known. To be understood. You think maybe you may stop breathing from the wanting, lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows move on the walls, the noises from the street coalescing into songs about right and wrong and the eternity of this moment, the moment in which you turn and walk away.

This moment that belongs to a place as well as a time, a feeling that has no existence when separated from its place of origin. So that when you return years later, the familiarity of the streets and the stores and the lights against the night sky, the nostalgia takes your breath away, remembering the first time you slept next to him, watching him frown in his sleep, feeling your heart peeling itself away from the inside of your chest and melting into some kind of red wax that pools on the sheets in the shape of his name.

So never the same leaf shadows as before when the earth was in this same position in its doomed circling around the sun, because there is no returning to the same position as before, the sun orbits the center of the galaxy only once every few million years and we are all thrown outwards at unbelievable speeds away from the center of the universe, just so many specks of dust on a chunk of rock hurtling toward the end of inertia and the end of love.

And this is why the greatest liar is memory. Unless it be forgetting. Or perhaps the greatest lie is the distinction between the two.  

we hit concrete @ 10:40 PM