I’m writing again.
Thinking about how to build an audience, enthusiasm, interest.
Divulging more of myself.
What am I protecting? Or whom? My little self, I think. The young girl who endured so much. Instinct taught me to curl inward, to hide, to secret important things away. So, unfurling, opening up, revealing myself, well that’s all terrifying. I want to be brave. Not a coward. Not a chicken.
*
What else is terrifying. Walking along a narrow sidewalk looking for a thrift store, hearing a brass band and looking for the source of the music when suddenly a loud cluck and a giant chicken bursts from overgrown foliage, wings flapping, talons extended. First my pal, then me, dodging toward the street, trying not to get run over by a car or clawed by an angry bird. It was scary and then funny, but we got out of there real quick.
*
Also, a restaurant to revisit.
No comments:
Post a Comment