sundered, scattered, fleeting

someday i'm going to write a book about all the people i've known -- i mean really known, in the way that two people share something wonderful and inexplicable with each other. those rare connections people fall into that are closer and more tender than anything produced by similar backrounds or comparable stations in life. those connections that arise spontaneously, almost psychically. natural as square pegs in square holes. filling in for you in spaces you didn't know were negative. missing pieces of identity. kindred.

i'd like to write a book about all of those people i've felt that connection with. it would be an interesting book, full of quirky, funny, sweet, intelligent, for-one-reason-or-another-remarkable people.

i would meticulously reconstruct all the laughter, conversations important and trivial, points we agreed or diverged upon; recount all the places we'd gone together, the trouble we'd gotten into, the quiet moments or the movies we'd seen; i would recall the members of their family that i had met, had dinner with, drank with.

i would do this for no other reason other than to simply remember; who they were, what we had; confirm its incidence.

because i don't know any of them anymore...