Day 4 of 365

September 17, 2010; 6:33 PM

Forty-nine. Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?

It hardly mattered. Every moment was spent with a memory. A sharply embedded memory in her system. Whenever she would look back, it had always been the innocently played out moments that struck her so forcefully.

It had always been the strong way he held her hand. Or the way he’d give her a big hug at the end of the day. Or the silent way he smelled her skin. The quick kisses, light and sweet.

It was those little things that meant the whole world to her.



Day 3 of 365

September 16, 2010, 11:37PM

That night, she started chasing white arrows on pavements. She scraped her shoe soles and her nose burned with every breath of the chilled Autumn winds. She never paused to stop where the white arrows led, blindly following them, one arrow at a time, the white chalk ghostly glowing in the dull gloom of November.

She walked, and walked, and walked. Until the arrows stopped, almost startlingly. She looked around, searching for something to anchor her suddenly aimless stroll. She took a breath, not knowing where she was, not knowing where to go.

She squared off her shoulders and tentatively took a step.


Project 365: The Written Word

So I’ve decided to start Project 365. Instead of taking photos though, I have to write something once everyday for one year. This is my attempt to hold on to what I love doing most in the world, despite my hectic work schedule.

Here goes nothing!

Day 1 of 365
September 14, 2010; 8:10 pm

The end. The beginning.

In hindsight, it seemed like an appropriate beginning to an end. The skies were bright that day, but it held in it a sickeningly sticky humidity that belied the rains that would come. When her world started to come crashing down, it felt surreal. Her fingertips went cold, despite the sweltering heat. Her heart beat a maddening tattoo in her chest, yet her reactions were sluggish, as if trudging through knee-deep waters. Everything was a contradiction. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, but as her lungs let go of the air, so did her control over her tears. She quelched down a child-like sob that escaped. She held on to her anger instead.

I will be strong. My anger will get me through this.

That was the end of life as she knew it. And the beginning of a world tainted by a singular moment.