gone grief & episodic certainty

I've been saving these pictures; the private place I go to calm myself, which isn't private at all, simply Portsmouth. Damn if I wish I wasn't across the ocean at the moment and could just pop down there. But I haven't posted on this thing in years so it's fitting to do it with a personal bang.
Voila, signore e signori - 'Io sono qui!' come ha detto quella donna annegando nel film Titanic.
Meaning, "I am here!" like the drowning woman said in Titanic.
(I used the line the first time I was disturbed in a public Italian bathroom, before I learned to say 'occupato!')
And so.









The jewels for him and the jewels out of doors crash to a halt, with the silencing of the many bells. She places her hand with care. This isn’t the sky we wanted but it’s better than that one; we hold our chins high and crouch quickly, pull our knees back til we fall onto a ground that holds such a layer of deterioration and history that it’s as if a bed; downfall like a quilt. We join the things to the things and watch them connect up; magnets on our eyes. Oh god, the sense of the cranium, the tarnishing that makes it homey, the many love songs, the joining of the making, the pushing down the hill, the rolling in surrender, the pain of the fall. Oh god, we ache down here, the light is in our eyes, we tremble and shake, we hold our knees up again, protecting ourselves. We are small girls, we are rebels; sawdust in our shoulders. How far to next-of-kin? The distance you and I are standing.