Try to summarize

I start writing, literally have paragraphs typed out and a subject line and something twists inside me and I stop. I keep trying to explain my life here, how much I love it, but I have the same words I did before, and a thesaurus does no good.

A weekend:
Friday is work-beachTransformers.
Start Saturday with a trip to Bahji, delight in an engagement (congrats!), wander Akka with girlfriends, go to a dinner party where I laugh so hard it hurts.

I watched the Shrine of the Báb from a rooftop as the sun went down and we said prayers for someone who had left this world for the next one. I watched the perfect color of Persian tea reflect torchlight, and I began to understand that these are the times that things matter. I sat in a café and thought about everything and nothing.

This is my life, after 7 months.

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  1. “I watched the perfect color of Persian tea reflect torchlight…”

    I love this line. Light passing through tea is one of the most beautiful things in the world to me. Seriously, as I sip my tea I constantly raise my glass and gaze lovingly through it, admiring its elegant translucence.

  2. Beautiful imagery of the Shrine and tea glass. I can relate to the way a thesaurus is painfully inadequate at finding words to convey thought and meaning.

  3. i had the same words as i did before…
    there’s a hint of a smile on their faces,
    knowing i have no choice just but to use them.
    i opt for a sigh instead.
    i look at me feet.
    i try and show people what i mean by exhibiting my hands,
    the stillness in my eyes.
    no gets it.
    my words chargs a cent more per syllable.
    i can’t bargain them down.
    they beat me each time.
    i slouch into a corner.
    take my wallet from out my heart
    and begin to mummble incoherently.
    my words are stale.
    out of fashion.
    they have slinters on them-
    are light as cheap wood.
    they’re rarely recieved correctly.
    they’re utterly useless for communication.
    the things i feel too big for them.
    i’m too broke to use anything else.
    i haven’t another key in my sack.
    words are everything.
    i am the victim and the captor.
    if i ever cried- it would be a stream of words.
    they line my arteries.
    i’m invisible but for them.