Dear Prophecy Girl,
I don't know about the end of the world, & I don't know about love.
The novel I am reading has Jehovah's Witnesses in it. They are waiting for the end of the world, they are reading the signs in books like the Prophet Daniel and the Revelation to St John. I don't know about Jehovah's Witnesses, either, but I know about funadmentalist Christians, into the midst of whom I was born, & they like signs, signals. I can tell you that I dislike signs, things that portend.
Look at me saying that. My friends if they reach you will tell you that I enlarge everything, that I find messages in the smallest things. Maybe I do this a little less, these days: I'm not sure.
But I like to think of everything happening like a thief in the night: without warning, & sort of quiet.
Maybe it is the quiet that I like so much, in those words.
I like what you said about the chi flowing through you, the first feelings of love being like ripping. Once I told the Brave Girl that everyone I love enters my body forcibly through a crack in my sternum. The crack heals quickly & has to be re-opened each time. Sometimes re-opened each day.
The day my faith lit up in me was like falling in love except this, that instead of something entering through a crack in the sternum I felt that my body was a vessel into which something astonishing was being poured. I miss that feeling, when it was all new. I have let it slip away. I will bring it back.
I hope you do not mind that I am writing to you here.
I think this device of the coded-letter-as-diary-entry is only proof that I should not write any plays. I think I am heavy-handed. I think I should stick to writing about the reflections of lights in the dirty windows of the bus. I think I should stick to how, this afternoon, I kept staring up at the miraculously blue sky hovering above one sort of short building which was situated between two sort of tall buildings. A little square of blue sky. I wasn't paying attention to anything else & suddenly this little gang of sparrows flew right up into my field of vision. I realized a few seconds later that they were close enough to me, my hair fluttered a little.
lovericka
