They say today is the first day of the rest of your life.
That's true of everyday, until the day you die.
I clean all the dirt completely out underneath my fingernails.
This will be the highpoint of the rest of my day.
My name is Meredith Ochoa, and by the end of the day, I'll be dead.
I watch, and listen, there is connection.
I skate almost down to the airport and I find two new sources as I watch.
A different shoulder width, tooth spacing, the most original body language.
I write it down and connect it to the sketch and some paintballs smashed on the page.
This will be the second highpoint, almost as satisfying, well, probably simply different than the first...but just as great.
it's the human element--it can strip away everything or complete anything.
Sometimes, there's just so much beauty in this...Then you finally see, and it overwhelms you.
I feel as if I could take a mirror and reflect it back on everything that's closed, anyone who doesn't liste, watch.
The beauty can understand you.
It can also consume you.
Death can be so beautiful, as if it's winning life. In a way, it gives you power.
The power of the memory the human leaves behind.
Or the power of taking vengeance over the cause.
It's the connection, with the influence, with death.
The woman next to me has skin with hundreds of tree limbs pressed into her.
I was watching her wrinkles.
IT was as if they were limbs and twigs that stretched on forever.
Like she could bloom at any second from those lines.
Bloom into death.
Ready for death to unlock the door.
And you, me, they
It doesn't matter.
The end, the beginning, they connect, and seem to start at the same time.
I'm in the airport and I'm going to fly away
-me
Cole says:
so hows school?
posted Sep 20