SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Thursday, Aug. 01, 2013 @ 4:00 pm
Fireworks II



High rises and fireworks, humid summer nights.

It continues, this summer, my glamourous lifestyle brimming over. My incredulous eyes, the concussions from the fireworks exploding inside my chest. The building quivers beneath me. Do not forget this. Do not forget this. Do not forget this.

We're drinking and eating, and the crowd seethes below.

Later, we're walking home through Yaletown. A forest of glimmering skyscrapers, brick sidewalks, and False Creek an inky carpet scattered heavily with boats, like broken glass. Near the stadium, the air pulses with bass. We climb up onto the bridge and stand there listening to Jay Z and Justin Timberlake, echoing but recognizable, and the roar of the crowd raises up like a wave and washes over us.

This city. This city.

At work, an engineer tells me to be more careful with my quality control. It sets me back - I've been too sure of myself. I've paused, leaned back, placed my hands behind my head. I spend the rest of the afternoon dwelling in shame.

There is no reward without challenge. Life doesn't give unless you give first. This place where I am, this place, is translucent and fragile. A silken spiderweb, vibrating in the wind. I hang onto it, my eight legs each sensing a different strand. Pathways leading different directions, and the whole thing so precarious that it's hard to believe that it's real.

Don't rest. Don't stop spinning out the silk. Stay balanced and light of foot, and hold onto the ride for as long as it exists.


Roots | Shoots