For weightlessness: a portfolio

Abstract

Tell me how it feels to be light and have so much time. I know only heaviness. I know only not enough. Not enough time and too few words. I am being crushed. I am being That was what I found in my mother’s notebook after her suicide. I won’t call it a letter – it wasn’t addressed to anyone; it wasn’t signed. She didn’t even finish it. But still I ripped the page out and kept it. It’s in my desk drawer and before I go to bed, I read it; try to read between the lines, to understand. But I can’t even imagine her saying the words. Tell me how it feels to be light.