About

Dear Diary,

It’s been a month, yet my news, if you could even call it that, is largely underwhelming. I haven’t gone out and done anything worth noting; it seems as though my dreary outings consist of visiting the city, possibly dining out, then heading home. Upon deep reflection I often realize that there is nothing particularly amusing about the things I do when I leave the house at all. The only aspect of being outside that I like is seeing and being seen. I love to observe people, and more than anything, I love the exhilarating feeling of knowing that they, too, are observing me. It’s like stepping into a pond of minnows and feeling them all nip at you. The nipping can either be aggressive, fast, and painful, as with harsh criticism or resplendent haughtiness, but it can just as well be delightfully delicate, like a swarm of tickling kisses and hugs. No matter the force by which such nipping is executed, the acknowledgement that one is real, tangible, and evocative in presence is more extraordinary than any other experience encountered by the human being. No force of nature will ever keep me from the pond- it is my light and air, spirit and soul. The pond is my singular form of balance, and forever the only body that I will look forward to diving within; because to dive within the pond is to dive within the collective being, and even greater- the unrippled realm by which minnows await.

Everything is infinite,

Bebe Zeva