Soul Braille Quotes

My fingers stroking the bark, seeking a Braille code, a clue, a message on how to come back to life after my long undersnow dormancy. I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So how can I find my way? Is there a chainsaw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears?

They learned about each other in the dark, bodies like braille to their souls.

I think about lying down. No, that would not do. I crouch by the trunk, my finger stroking the bark, seeking a Braille code, a clue, a message on how to come back to life after my long undersnow dormancy. I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So, how can I find my way? Is there a chain saw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears? I dig my fingers into the dirt and squeeze. A small, clean part of me waits to warm and burst through the surface. Some quiet Melindagirl I haven't seen in months. This is the seed I will care for.

I think about lying down. No, that would not do. I crouch by the trunk, my fingers stroking the bark, seeking a Braille code, a clue, a message on how to come back to life after my long undersnow dormancy. I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So, how can I find my way? Is there a chain saw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears? I dig my fingers into the dirt and squeeze. A small, clean part of me waits to warm and burst through the surface. Some quiet Melindagirl I haven’t seen in months. That is the seed I will care for.

How does it feel? I'm asked. I think, as if enormous is not enough? Now, I'm supposed to feel it? Become the blind man and the braille he reads. Somehow, outside myself, feeling legs, arms, chest, cleft in my huge jaw, eyes that are mine and, at once, eyes of the beholder. My body is no one's history. Trace fingers over every joint and scar. Run hands across my skin, through hair. Feel my nose. There is nothing there I've not grown into like the slow unnoticed rising of trees. It's only now, bulk that I am, heaving into someone's light, I must endure questions. Should I answer? The truth or a lie? Perhaps in a voice equal to my size: I suffer from this uncommonness. I'm growing from the outside in. My soul has not yet caught up. - Giant's Fourth Complaint

How does it feel? I'm asked. I think, as if enormous is not enough? Now, I'm supposed to feel it? Become the blind man and the braille he reads. Somehow, outside myself, feeling legs, arms, chest, cleft in my huge jaw, eyes that are mine and, at once, eyes of the beholder. My body is no one's history. Trace fingers over every joint and scar. Run hands across my skin, through hair. Feel my nose. There is nothing there I've not grown into like the slow unnoticed rising of trees. It's only now, bulk that I am, heaving into someone's light, I must endure questions. Should I answer? The truth or a lie? Perhaps in a voice equal to my size: I suffer from this uncommonness. I'm growing from the outside in. My soul has not yet caught up. - Giant's Fourth Complaint

They had never promised each other every lifetime, every universe, every possible arrangement of atoms. Those are in infinite supply, and they are two girls. But they are two girls whose blood runs with the heat of exploding stars, even as it drips down their knuckles. They are two girls whose souls reach for each other and ignore probability and infinity. They are two girls who crash together and touch each other gently. They have each other’s names carved into their bones and each other’s fingerprints tattooed on their ligaments and they breathe in time with the other’s heartbeat. They would count the steps to hell and freeze it over to save one another and they would burn if there were no other choice. When the sun goes supernova and solar flares lick across the sky, they will see one another, even if only for an instant, and think, This is almost heaven. And with every instant they have they can read each other like braille with ink-stained fingertips and they are a force of nature if you dare to touch them, learning what happens when a hurricane protects its own.