Speculations of an Artistic Mind: Jane's Thoughts

February 5, 2014 ~ Rags and Wind

The cold is seeping into my paper bones, blowing right through me as if I were a ghost. Maybe my bones aren’t paper at all; maybe I don’t even have bones. Maybe a better analogy would be that I am a rag. I am a worn-to-holes rag that has no choice but to go wherever the wind wants me to go. I want more than anything to find shelter somewhere to repair my worn-through parts, but the wind is relentless. No rest for the weary, right? Well, that sure is the case for me anyway.

There is nothing worse than wondering how much time you have left before you reach your oblivion. You can feel yourself withering away little by little, and you know that you will eventually waste away into nothing, but you just don’t know when; that is the most disconcerting part.

I don’t want to be a rag, but I don’t want to be the wind either.