The body remembers EVERYTHING. I am very familiar with flashbacks. I cannot stand to be bored because that is when they intrude and take me to unwanted places and hated memories. So even after 65 years I must read (or write) or work or .... continuously. The mind is its own prison.
My dear. Your words land like a psalm carved in bone. Yes — the body remembers everything, and it will recite those hymns of pain at the smallest hint of stillness. I know this, and I honor your knowing of it too.
Perhaps that is why we write — to keep the wolves at bay, to drown out their chorus with our own song, even if our song trembles. You name the mind a prison; I believe you. And yet your words here feel like a key, if only for a moment.
May you never run out of pages to read, and may your pen remain your shield.
The body remembers EVERYTHING. I am very familiar with flashbacks. I cannot stand to be bored because that is when they intrude and take me to unwanted places and hated memories. So even after 65 years I must read (or write) or work or .... continuously. The mind is its own prison.
My dear. Your words land like a psalm carved in bone. Yes — the body remembers everything, and it will recite those hymns of pain at the smallest hint of stillness. I know this, and I honor your knowing of it too.
Perhaps that is why we write — to keep the wolves at bay, to drown out their chorus with our own song, even if our song trembles. You name the mind a prison; I believe you. And yet your words here feel like a key, if only for a moment.
May you never run out of pages to read, and may your pen remain your shield.