Original Post One Week One

This original post comes from the calisthenic we did in class today about images and whatnot.

Once, as a child, I slammed a girl against a wall, told her to go home. Home, where a white haired woman feeds her dog a cookie from her gelato cup, the sky, some untranslated shade of blue. Blue, like frescoes half peeled from age. Half a woman, naked and pointing at the door, staring without smiling. Almost me, almost my mother, sister. Thus, I am shaped by the quakes of this city. Maybe we're all just kayaking down an Italy we're supposed to see but can't absorb. Maybe we're all just cracks from a brush.