International handsign for “tickle tickle”
I don’t know, I really don’t. Maybe it’s her incredibly expressive, animated face. Maybe it’s the hair, or the hands. Or her willingness to do any damned thing that enters her mind, without reservation. Maybe it’s her enthusiastic disregard for being guarded. I don’t know, I really don’t.
I think wherever she goes, the very air must become inebriated. I suspect O2 ceases to be a colorless, odorless, tasteless diatomic gas and becomes instead deeply saturated, smelling and tasting faintly of a very special old pale cognac. I think wherever she passes reality itself must, for a time, become semi-permeable. I think…but I don’t really know.
I like the not-knowing. Not-knowing is elastic. Not-knowing expands every possibility. But if I know anything at all, it’s this: Qathi exists in a more vivid reality. And that reality can transmit itself over teh intertubes and pass right through your monitor. Then what will happen to you? I don’t know, I really don’t.
Ain’t it great?
Photo "2287361041" not found (invalid ID)Photo "2287361041" not found (invalid ID)Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, greg fallis and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
