Shells

Something happens to people when they are falling in love, they evolve into something different. If you catch them at just the right moment, you can see them begin to crack open,their sheaths curling back like pages of a book, burning on a fire, exposing little sweetnesses between the lines.

They open up and unburden their hearts the way a woman takes off her jewellery after a long night, setting down those heavy pendant earrings and unlacing the stiff corset to slip into a loose comfortable robe.

They tell you all the pain pressed into their flat chests as they sift through the betrayals and regrets. Given encouragement, they grow younger and younger and they being to see things differently, like someone who has needed glasses for a long time—and finally having gotten them-they look around just for the pleasure of it. They see the detail, the colour and lights and sharp edges of what the world has to offer.

They drag out all the musty sorrows and joys from the basement where they’ve been shoved with old photos and shell collections. And after a while, they begin to glow, like souls slipping into the bodies of babies about to be born. A year goes by, or two and like broken bones those cracks begin to knit back together.