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feeling as fabric.

imagine your feelings as the finest silk organza, passing through the corridor of your soul. the wind carries it in, and now what? because it’s become caught and snagged. you just so happen to have these rusted nails, screws without heads, other rough timber and splintered wood that catch on the fabric. it can’t move through you until after you’ve found what’s sharp, and removed or hammered it in. once you’ve smoothed over that patch of drywall and sat with the torn fabric, lifeless on the ground, the wind will pick up again to carry this feeling up and out of your system.

and one day, after you’ve cleared a bit more, someone will show you the salt that sits in their wounds. they’ll give you their map of ancient hurts and humble progress. you will be touched by the beauty of their cartography and they’ll feel how deeply you can love them, if only they’d let you. you are a mirror to how brightly their soul shines in darkness.

together, you’ll create an estuary where their saltwater flows into your freshwater, and you’ll find yourselves in the present, unmasked. these moments don’t last long; they endure in resonance, in this frequency that changes both of you. and that’s the gift: how your private experiences changed and were reflected in the other.

this is the alchemy. and it’s no small thing.