You know, where the furthest extent of your jaw bone connects with your skull.
This time it pulled me into a brisk and hazily sunlit room at daybreak. The electric pulsations had migrated closer to my temple. With x-acto blade precision they struck with the rhythm of my heartbeat.
I laid there amongst the warmth of down comforters, terry-cloth pillows, and the heat of another in slumber — an otherwise ideal circumstance — and purposefully bit the insides of my cheeks to no effect.
Looking at the insides of my eyelids, in an attempt to close myself off from all outside auditory and visual sensation, I began the push. In a moment of intense focus, in pin-pointing the locus of this vessel blockage — as if willing the blood-flow to increase its rate through my veins — I willed the plasma and oxygen-filled cells to progress.
Micrometer by micrometer the sting worked its way closer to my ear, and just as I thought I had discovered a new personal dharma, a (likely giant) crow cawed to pull me out of my trance.
Just a twinge.
"I'm from Libya," he said. I don't know what to say. It's as if he'd told me he'd just come from his father's funeral.
The first specialty coffee shop in Ikebukuro and Junkudo (bookstore) resonate.
Editing is interpreting.
The Riddle of Steel.
The man stands motionless in a crush of white-shirted salarymen, as they swarm past him, toward the single escalator.
Rêve de centre commercial-piscine
Birthday walk home