 Inspired by my journey naming my bisexuality Imagine you wake up tomorrow to a new universal law: "Your home must only be decorated with rectangular objects" (not counting furniture, appliances, etc.). You can still keep your decorative globe or astrolabe, you can keep that rose gold 3D hexagonal plant holder and your glass pyramid that reminds you of the Louvre – as long as they are all somewhere your guests won't accidentally stumble upon them. Only rectangular decorative objects are allowed in public areas of your house.
So, you dutifully hide away all decorations that aren't rectangular. Months go by. You've followed the law well. It seems only rectangular decorations really are everywhere you go – houses, libraries, malls, even on TV shows. Until one day, you visit someone and see a small 3D trapezoidal decoration on their bookshelf. Neither of you mention it, but it sticks in your mind as you go home. You wonder if that decoration was okay for them to have had alongside their rectangular ones. You go home and retrieve a box of your old decorations; you reminisce some. But when the phone rings, you put the box away, feeling ashamed. After your phone call, you sit in your living room surrounded by rectangles and realize that you'll just have to get used to having a home with only one shape of decoration. It doesn't feel like it fully represents who you are, but that's what is allowed. The calm inside her was hidden,
the monster wouldn't let it free. Until one day, a maiden came and sung the beast a tune. A knight joined her chorus as did a farmer, a mage, a smith. They sang, played, danced, and lulled the creature into sleep; briefly the spell was broken and the girl knew calm once more. Inspired by a special community in New Brunswick. Here in this soft white room,
as stars begin to peek through inky blackness, they sit on cushioned chairs, nestle under throws, and clasp earthenware. We mugs hold their cocoa or their tea (herbal...berry, from the tea drawer). We are at the centre of their contemplation. They collect memories and musings from their week, connect tidbits of shared meaning to kernels of wisdom.  . We stood beside the ferry railing as the island drew near.
He stood to my right and asked of me: "So, where do you think I should begin? I’ve heard about the lighthouse, haunted cove, and old weir, the swimming quarry, museum, hiking trails; how the sunrise looks from the northern bluff, how lobstermen's days start before dawn, and how wise the innkeeper is. I’ve also heard about the stories Old Bill tells, and who knows how to dig clams the best - I’d like to learn. I’ve heard there’s a nice spot to pick blueberries, one particular summer-person’s dog to avoid, and a kindly musician who lives near Sampson Cove. What would you recommend?" |
