Today I am grateful for the guy to my left, the water fountain ahead of me. The lights hanging on the now blue trellis. She says, "I hate that those leaves are on the ground."
"Yeah, but I love them."
"Okay. Okay," she thinks fast like she walks. "But don't think about a website or photos I may need. I want you to get in there and do something artsy. Outside in the courtyard."
He holds a bird in his left hand, the right one is over his heart. His shadow is behind the gate.
We're supposed to say all those things we weren't gonna say, but I tell her this story I heard on Radiolab last week. "It was this neurologist who had a stroke and lost the part of her brain in charge of language. Words, it was called and it was all about how when she lost words or language her life became about experience. She was in a hospital with the sun coming through the window and to hear her now speak of it I knew. I knew as much as I could I had to get away from the words in my head. Just experience it. That's what I knew I needed to do here."
Then the internal dialogue began, "Don't stroke, chic."
Then, "Don't fail, girl."
I don't know how to thank you but to do my best.