our village (52)

That’s when I started seeing things a little differently.

The moon was a gentle wash of light, showing the world with soft edges, muted colors, like a blue-tinted x-ray—a moon-ray—that showed the world of things beneath our sharp and painted stories about the things; naked things exposed by moonlight. How can I explain what I saw?

I saw the moon as microscope, magnifying the magnificent, the magical—and everything was magical, by its very existence, exposed by moonlight.

Lilly-Anne, I’m seeing things new. I’m waking up, like the world after winter, we are waking, and in this new dawn I am seeing the way I’ve never seen before. And this new sight, I think, this is real. Now I’m actually seeing what is.

Are you seeing what I’m seeing, Lilly-Anne? Do you always see this way?

Let me tell you about the moment because, I guess I don’t know if you were there or not. The spring frogs were singing with gusto—did you hear that?—overlapping choruses and ever-climaxing crescendos: the song, the sex, the spring scene! The whippoorwill was whippoorwilling and, God willing, he was gonna get laid tonight, too.

I don’t mean to just be talking about sex—I hope I haven’t offended you—no, that’s just a part of it, just a part of the whole, the whole of it. I mean, everything. EVERYTHING. That’s it, Lilly-Anne, that’s the thing…I mean, there is no thing…I mean, no single thing…I mean, no one thing is everything, but…but…everything is! Everything is!

And I could see it at that moment, that’s what I mean, I mean, that’s what I’m trying to say. Do you know what I mean? Somehow you’ve helped me see the world in a new light.


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