houses of leaves / hi, how are you?

in everything we witness, we look for explanations. even in our hands. manuals or reasoning. definitions. lines within which to bind ourselves.

and in the back rooms of dark bars we try to find the faces we've forgotten. ways to forge through the discrepancies we're facing. to forge through the feeling that we are all just really alone. but i know isolation well. well enough to know better.

we surround ourselves with faces. faces to witness all that grounds us. proof. pictures. lines within which to bind ourselves. so we know what's happened has really happened. so we don't have to search so hard for the explanations that get us through our days. the days in which we find ourselves alone, in bed, trying to make sense of the messes just before us. so we can say, 'hey, remember when?' as though we're trying to find the comfort in a moment long-passed. when really, we just want the comfort of knowing it actually happened, we were actually there, and that it was before we found ourselves alone, in bed, trying to make sense of the messes just before us.

we never know how to say the things we need to say. so we make the most of our actions and inactions. we make the most of our reactions. we fashion ourselves unwritten clauses, unspeakable truths we know we can never serve. we secure lines of translation, to travel across, arms outstretched. where we feel our ways around gravity, as though through the dark alleys of the ghettos of our hearts. we never know how to feel the things we need to feel. in everything we witness, we look for explanations. placations. vacations. quick fixes to get us through the messes we find just before us. we're always looking. as though through the dark, for that light to lead us into safety. the safety of knowing everything is as we hope it is. as we believe it to be.