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Rough Drafts
A Series of Pieces Written in the Wild
#23
I wished I’d thought to take a picture of the Scrabble board before I cleaned it up. Before I left on a long Uber back to New Jersey. As I continue to ping pong along from place to place, from living in the moment to capturing it. Living with a purpose but without an end goal.
It’s been a while since I’ve written one of these. Taken a moment to myself outside of polishing up manuscripts and continually looking for ways to fuel me to keep the volley going. It’s been nice to revisit with people I know and places I have some familiarity with. Sometimes too much of a new thing can overwhelm the senses. Like the many times I was spoken to in Greek, and Portuguese, and Spanish and tried to find the words but realized I didn’t have any. Just a handful of “hellos,” “thank you’s,” and “un cafè con leche, por favor’s.” Which didn’t work in Greece, obviously. The absence of words sometimes lead to a proliferation of thoughts to fill my brain where the symbols and characters lined up in unfamiliar ways all around me couldn’t give me much meaning to make with them. Thoughts like,
What am I doing?
I wish citrus grew like this everywhere.
Where was that store with the Feta I liked?
