Empty Spaces

Empty Spaces November 5, 2010 at 8:41pm Empty Spaces And so he developed a love for emptiness, all the spaces between things, what demarks this from that, interstitial transitions of season, faraway lands, or seconds on a wristwatch. It didn’t matter if it were raindrops, an echo off distant canyon walls, or tracing rock fissures in narrow passages, joints of brick, or cracks in a concrete walk, driving asphalt pavement and the intermittent sound of tires over repair patches, a pause in conversation for a shared breath, the opening shape of a mouth as a sound exits. Fascinated by the gaps of words and letters, large and small quiet places waiting to be filled, wherever he could insert himself and feel his arms outstretch, a hand, or fingertip grip, a fingernail edge, or foothold. He was fixated on the distance between, the silent talk of each and every thing that somehow remained separate, which seemed to matter so much more than the objects themselves, this tension, which was infinite.