mourning the loss of something that's in front of me, alive in my hands. mourning it, slipping through my fingers, like sand.
"Rachel says love is like a big black piano being pushed off the top of a three-story building and you're waiting on the bottom to catch it. There was a man, a crazy who lived upstairs from us when we lived on South Loomis. He couldn't talk, just walked around all day with this harmonica in his mouth. Didn't play it. Just sort of breathed through it, all day long, wheezing, in and out, in and out. This is how it is with me. Love I mean."
- Sandra Cisneros.
