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| Yosemite, 2009 |
I appreciate all your kind comments, your emails, your words of support and, yes, empathy. My light posts of late mask a sort of paralysis I'm feeling elsewhere, and I'm afraid that I have to take a break from the pretense. I'll be sitting here a while, just sitting here, on the dock of the bay.
Naked
The reason you so often in literature have a naked woman
walk out of her house that way, usually older, in her front garden
or on the sidewalk, oblivious, is because of exactly how I feel right
now.
You tend to hear about how it felt to come upon such a mythical
beast,
the naked woman on the street, the naked man in the tree, and that
makes
sense because it is wonderful to take the naked woman by the
hand
And know that you will remember that moment for the rest of
your life
because of what it means, the desperation, the cataclysm of what
it takes
to leave your house naked or to take off your clothes in the tree.
It feels good to get the naked man to come down from there by a
series
of gentle commands and take him by the elbow or her by the hand
and
lead him to his home like you would care for a bird or a human
heart.
Still if you want instead, for once, to hear about how the person
came to be
standing there, naked, outside, you should talk to me right now,
quickly,
before I forget the details of this way that I feel. I feel like walking
out.
Jennifer Michael Hecht
