Enchanted Captivated Stimulated Curious

"She thought about what she had, where she was centered, central, the centerpiece, and why she came where she was none of those. She knew her place on the altar but shook off worship like she did leers, jeers, and gaping dumbass boy stares, preferring instead the secrets of the confessional and the darkness behind the curtain. Those who wanted to build her up had no idea she wanted to be taken apart. Then put back together. "

- Edge wrote that up there, posted it almost a year ago.

When Edge wrote this, when I read the words the first time, waves washed quietly over me as I sat breathless. I read it over and over. I went back to it day after day. I've no idea who my dear friend was holding in his heart when he wrote those words, or if perhaps it was a 'collective of women' that inspired it. What I do know, is how it held me then, holds me still.

I cut and pasted those words up there, then printed them. The little paper is folded umpteen times like it was stolen from an origami graveyard. It whispers to me to experience it again. It screams loudly if I haven't for too long. The outside folds are darker now from wear and grime, the edges curl some, there's a tiny rip because of how often it has been unfolded, read, refolded and tucked away in my wallet in the 007 pocket no one else looks in.

I touched me. It touches me still. It makes me smile. It makes me melt. It smacks of all sorts of things that I identify with. It perplexes me and I relate to it all at once. It both fills me and leaves me hungry. I'm drawn to it. Still.

It is very mysterious to me, I have not unraveled it's secrets. I might never. I think maybe it raises questions deep inside the core of me that I haven't delved into completely. I find the whole thing fascinating.

Fascinating.