Thursday, June 28, 2007

in this dangerous world, there's an art to growing old

At least I got to hold him once, before he drifted farther away...

It's an odd thing. The universe rarely has clear-cut signals for me, but I can't think but that this one's unequivocal: I need to be alone for a bit. The statue's gone far from my shores; the wandering satellite has found his orbit again, and is far out on the elliptic; and tonight, the neko lad I had left told me he was leaving.

He will return...they will all return...but not now. It won't be now.

I guess we've hit that point. Because the other thing I know? Is I don't do alone well...

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I wonder where the half-Drow is living these days...

2 comments:

Amber_Palowakski said...

*hugs* I suppose there is an art to being alone as well, sometimes I crave being alone, and sometimes I dread it.

emillyorr said...

There is an art to most things, in truth, but this will be a hard lesson. Still. I'll be about an hour out of world, just now, and then...dance at my club for a bit, then go back to building, I guess.

It's what I have to do.