if i were to tell you about me, i think i’d start with the fact that i used to believe that all airplanes were from italy because of their green and red lights, and that my father once told me the plural of fish was net, and on bright brimming days where i am not hungry and full and happy i am convinced that one is eaten not by what they eat, but by what they don’t. the things they never mouth. the place where unthought thoughts still think, and then, dimly, sink.
if i were to continue, i’d tell you i’m not clearly evolved from those waters that are said to always dance with a distant moon. i’d add i would like to see this distant moon. i am told it is where there is no water, where there is no sinking.
if i were to end, i would tell you this is an elaborate, roundabout way that what you heard is true: all of it. the brag of my lungs, the pistons of my stomach, the bravado of my heart – i was, i am, i will.
and so, i guess, are you. even after the ending.
A lovely piece of writing!