One of my favorite things about your writing is that it’s incredibly personal, but there’s something about the specificity that allows me, as a reader, to drop into my own memories (like that of first love!). Not just anyone can pull that trick off.
This was exquisite, Kimberly. Experiencing love in the throes of grief with the right person is wondrous. A salve for an unbearable wound.
This made me feel like I was invited to a secret dance, listening to a secret language that only two lovers can know. I love envisioning your life through your words. Such a gift you have bestowed upon us. Thank you.
Wow! This writing is gorgeous. “As I pull away, Earth’s female population obliterated, I savor the ash still on my lips.” The rivers of corn, the shapes carved through the window, the eyes secretly escorting him to his seat. And then that beautiful letter.
"In a dangerous instant, the doors of my heart are thrown open and Ale walks in."
the synchrony of this is incredible. And your memories so raw, tender, the grieving heart fluttering from leaving Ale to Jenny leaving, to the Blue Jamaica mix-tape music ~ those music tapes we had to carry us through heartache...
Once again, you're seeing things that I didn't even see myself. The blue bulb in Ale's bedroom and the single bulb in my letter to Charlie—both written at very different times and even an afterthought for me to include that letter in this chapter. Creativity is funny that way, even when I was making narrative films, the impulse and process were often amputated from my logical, executive functioning. It was only later that viewers would point out connections and revelations. And your nudge to share the loss of virginity? Challenge accepted! Though if I'm honest, I recall little from the POV of my body. No surprise there. But if I allow my cells to recall from Ale's POV? Clear as day.
Now you have me googling Courtney Peppernell! Is it wrong that I don't know her? What a great quote. Thanks as always, for your encouraging remarks. This one was quite vulnerable to share so I appreciate the high five!
One of my favorite things about your writing is that it’s incredibly personal, but there’s something about the specificity that allows me, as a reader, to drop into my own memories (like that of first love!). Not just anyone can pull that trick off.
I think you've officially identified a high-side to being an overly porous, people-pleasing chameleon! ;)
I mean, there's got to be *some* upside, right?! 🙃
Like all the others have said. Beautiful writing Kimberly, just beautiful.
Thank you Jan! We both got busy with life and found each other again yesterday. Fun to weave in and out of each other's prose. ;)
This was exquisite, Kimberly. Experiencing love in the throes of grief with the right person is wondrous. A salve for an unbearable wound.
This made me feel like I was invited to a secret dance, listening to a secret language that only two lovers can know. I love envisioning your life through your words. Such a gift you have bestowed upon us. Thank you.
You were invited indeed! And I couldn't be happier that you RSVP'd "yes." :)
This is exquisite Kimberley.
"I flirt with fearlessness and passion because I need his way near."
You are a poet.
Gah! Thank you! (Cheeks flushing.)
Wow! This writing is gorgeous. “As I pull away, Earth’s female population obliterated, I savor the ash still on my lips.” The rivers of corn, the shapes carved through the window, the eyes secretly escorting him to his seat. And then that beautiful letter.
Very glad to have found this stack.
And I, you! You had me at "and life outside and outside prescription" in your bio.
"In a dangerous instant, the doors of my heart are thrown open and Ale walks in."
the synchrony of this is incredible. And your memories so raw, tender, the grieving heart fluttering from leaving Ale to Jenny leaving, to the Blue Jamaica mix-tape music ~ those music tapes we had to carry us through heartache...
"In a dangerous instant, the doors of my heart are thrown open and Ale walks in." Oh, I know that instant!
Once again, you're seeing things that I didn't even see myself. The blue bulb in Ale's bedroom and the single bulb in my letter to Charlie—both written at very different times and even an afterthought for me to include that letter in this chapter. Creativity is funny that way, even when I was making narrative films, the impulse and process were often amputated from my logical, executive functioning. It was only later that viewers would point out connections and revelations. And your nudge to share the loss of virginity? Challenge accepted! Though if I'm honest, I recall little from the POV of my body. No surprise there. But if I allow my cells to recall from Ale's POV? Clear as day.
Now you have me googling Courtney Peppernell! Is it wrong that I don't know her? What a great quote. Thanks as always, for your encouraging remarks. This one was quite vulnerable to share so I appreciate the high five!