I think we do it on purpose. We leave people with a part of ourselves, knowing that once they've passed through our lives, we will still be there. Somewhere on the top shelf of a closet is our hoodie, or stuffed in a dresser drawer, an old t-shirt. We leave these bits and pieces knowing full well that the next time they're cold and grab that sweatshirt, or the next time they shrug on a t-shirt for something to wear around the house, they stop. And a crisp memory of us gets thrown back into their minds. And they remember, tugging at the hood or pulling the shirt down over their stomachs, just exactly when that piece of clothing passed from us to them. We aren't a memory anymore, but something tangible and real. Something soft and worn in, like we never really went away.
other peoples clothing... - real discoveries come from chaos
08 March 2009 @ 06:09 pm
other peoples clothing...