Once I was a mute rock, a muffled accordion, smothered cello hiding in my
secret pain, wearing a trench coat of unidentified emotions. There was always
the fear I would break and everything I’d worked so hard to cover up with fancy
rhinestone mustangs would gallop forth in all its rawness to be ripped apart.
Time waits for the first of us to speak, then opens up a city hydrant. That’s
when our language disappears, and all we hear is the resonance of laughter.