touchstone a touch
stone
when a touchstone is wood a gravemarker not a gravestone
how it feels different under his fingers than
stone its quiet catches at his whorls
and loops gently tugging them reminding him of her brushing his hair not because he was lazythat couldnt do it
himself but because he wanted her to do
it for him humoured
she chastised him You’re a big boy now,
you can brush your own hair.
she wasnt well hadnt been well for what seemed to him a long
time
brushing his hair was one of the
few things she could do that didnt exhaust her
it gave them time alone she talked as she brushed his hair he loved the music of her voice they didnt talk about important things they talked about how they felt about
things he listened intently to her because he was very sure when she died he
would forget her voice and he wanted to fill his head to bursting with her
breath her words to pushback against forgetting how she said them her cadence her particular words phrases
he tried hard to memorise them so when he would say them he might see her face and hearing them maybe catching an echo of her voice desperately knowing he wouldnt have them if she hadnt said
1722, Twosday,
15 6. 21
1243, Monday,
21 6. 21
Steam Down feat.
Afronaut Zu – Etcetera https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WL6mMhkkyL4
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