her leaving
march '98, new york city

i was holding her train ticket just yesterday between my fingers, sitting around the station floor. penn station. how i hated the place. even the subway stations i hate. i hate the airports the most. departures. goodbyes. and final hugs and glances.

i knew this was gonna happen. this empty and hollow state of trying to remember instances. searching and scanning and skimming my head to recollect and preserve them because i don't want to forget. not a moment.

mad crazy.

mazzy star. i hear Hope singing through my earphones. her soothing voice that puts me etherised. back to that airy living space. thet balcony, that looks over the misty horizon between the sea and sky. the crisp husky harmonica, lulled by the subtle percussion. that song. flowers in december.

i guess it was a little disturbing trying to make some sense out of it all. trying to understand what it was. but one thing's for sure. it flushed me with feelings half-buried before. and perhaps that's why mad crazy is what it is...