I remember reading about this village in Peru that was obsessed with flight and falling. every year, they sent all their strongest young men to cliffs overlooking the ocean, to jump. they thought if they positioned themselves just right, or swallowed enough air, that they'd just pull it off and fly away. I guess the fact that hundreds of them died this way didn't discourage them either.
when the Spanish invaded, the entire village just disappeared. men, women, and children - everyone chose to jump off the cliff's edge rather than submit to the conquistadors. only their bodies never surfaced from the ocean, never washed up onto the beaches.
I have a sort of affinity for that village - I like to think that most days, I have the guts to look over the edge. to make the distinction between jumping and falling, and have hope that last minute, I'd be able to pull it off too.
tomorrow I'm having my goodbye dinner with my parents; Vonda and Ross are off to northern Alberta in a couple days. while I understand their restlessness, and need for change, I can't help but wish they'd finally settle down and stay somewhere. it looks like I'm going to be a little orphan annie for the next couple big holidays too, since my work has a holiday block out on vacation time. while I realize this is all crucial stuff to becoming a self sufficient adult (and not the useless fetus I usually feel like) I resent it coming so quickly and without warning.
we made up rules to follow for good
no wonder we're fucked up, some of us did
tonight never ends if we never go inside
the moon is always full
your calendar is always pinned on summertime