the clay in your hands

having an exceedingly reminiscent/sentimental day. maybe it's the house having been so quiet with my roommate working doubles nearly every day and s's extended stay in california. being alone so much all day and all night, you realize how little you actually speak with your voice. thinking about how there are people you meet who have such a dramatic effect on your life, they spin it like a top. or perhaps it's not an effect so directly; perhaps some people are more like doors that let in scores of other key life-players, new towns, new hands, new hearts. does it mean the others you become close to who have not been doors or windows, just humans with vast hearts and big minds, are any less important? i don't think so. i can't stop thinking about how without a few quick keystrokes, a stop at an off-path bar or that extra personal introduction, how without moments uncalculated and so spontaneous and un-prepared-for, life would be so drastically different.