11.13.22

Listening to English Gardner talk about running on my run through the cemetery and around the reservoir and back. She says of her injury and recovery, how much during that time she "missed the sound of her footsteps." How running makes her human. She talked about running 100 meters. How much of that is poise. It's an art she says. That kind of technicality. It's not about running harder. When she runs everything slows down. She talks about listening to the sound of her feet hitting the ground, the kind of music it makes. 

It reminds me of talking to ____ last night. Recently he's only been posting his drawings of flowers. He tells me that he just learned that flowers have their own language and how those drawings are a long poem. More than anything he wants to give himself flowers. He asks me about the book I'm writing and I try to tell him about music. What I'm trying to compose with words. Like a song, the book isn't really about anything but it feels like everything. There's a quiet knowing between us. Listening to the sound of my footsteps, I try to reach for something beyond understanding, synopsis, and biography.