Like a Blind Child
Aliceat Seventeen: Like a Blind Child
Aliceat Seventeen is a summer evening when I learn my body, like a blind child leaving a walled school for the first time. Stumbling from cool hallways to a world dense with scent and sound—the pines roaring in the sudden wind—like a huge chorus of insects.
I felt the damp socket of flowers, touched weeds riding the crest of a stony ridge, and the scrubby ground cover on low hills. Haystacks began to burn, smoke rose like sheets of translucent mica. The thick air hummed over the stretched wires of wheat as I lay in the overgrown field listening to the shrieks of small rabbits bounding beneath my skin.
Aliceat Seventeen is a summer evening when she feels that her body is out of this world, and finds herself staring at a land where everything is alive, and all sounds are an echo. The air feels heavy, like a thick blanket covering her, while the ground hums softly beneath her feet as she gapes at the scene.
Aliceat Seventeen is a summer evening when I hear the faint growl of a small rabbit, and realize that I am not alone in this world. The sound of my breath fills the air like a ripple in the middle of a pond, where the water surrounds me as I listen to the whispers of other lives.
Aliceat Seventeen is a summer evening when she feels that her body is out of this world, and finds herself staring at a land where everything is alive, and all sounds are an echo. The air feels heavy, like a thick blanket covering her, while the ground hums softly beneath her feet as she gapes at the scene.
Aliceat Seventeen is a summer evening when I hear the faint growl of a small rabbit, and realize that I am not alone in this world. The sound of my breath fills the air like a ripple in the middle of a pond, where the water surrounds me as I listen to the whispers of other lives.
