Ella Frances Sanders



It's evening here, and everything about me feels poised on the edge of change, of a tipping point, of something like strong watery rivers carrying me swiftly and surely, an apex.

I think what stops me from falling over is the lives. All the lives of everyone who I don’t know, who I never make eye contact with, and how those people all have their own futures, almost certainly devoid of me. They have problems with their knees, they struggle to pay their mortgages, they swim lengths in a pool I’ve never been to, they go on holiday to sunny places and end up burnt, they kiss other people and then scream at empty walls, they read books I’ve never heard of and they misplace belongings that really meant something. And I’ll never know any of it. Those lives might enter mine only for a split second, but I’ll probably be too wrapped up in my own to notice anyway. This often hits me, yet I don’t mind. I like the noise that their lives generate around me, the humming and the whispers and the back and forth.

The fact that people can make such beauty as the song below will carry my restless bones through the winter, I'm sure of it.