Zawmb’yee Continues the Blog, About Chapter 8
ENTRY 90 partial Part 1
We made our way towards the corner of the park. I think we passed the building with the trees on every terrace, and the buses faced us at every stop with their unloading commotions and their boarding confused hordes looking for cards and change. But mostly I didn’t notice if there were gems in the din, or new fashions in the store windows, no, mostly, I listened to the music of Doug’s chatter because I love the sound of his voice — it comforts me and I know when the song of his voice turns tender when I laugh that he loves to be with me, and when my word of acknowledgment makes him smile and pause, I know he loves me like the humming bird likes the flower however fast the flutter of its wings. I think perhaps I dress to be his nectar.
Doug said, “Could this be a Phtalocyanine Blue sky?”
“Huh what?” I said
“I mean, it seems like a god has lent you his brushes, and you’ve painted my sky. Is it you who paints my world?”
“No, it is you who shines on my tears, penetrates the rainbow of my feelings and I show you the canvas of the world as I see it. I look in your eyes and pray they will see every color that makes you happy and if I would be on your palette, brush me. (I’ll continue this ENTRY later — I’ve had to stop. I just can’t seem to keep recording everything fluently, and I am so intensely happy-sad and I fear a rain is coming)