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The Weather Report – April 20, 2015

The Weather Report – April 20, 2015


Camden Town, London, England, United Kingdom

High: 18℃
Low:  5℃

Sunrise: 5:55 a.m.
Sunset: 8:05 p.m.

Humidity: 46%

Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent

Mist and cloudy patches in the morning, generally clear at night. Winds ENE at 10-15 mph.

You should wear: your body like a tight robe.
You’re going to feel: like showing off to the wind, somehow.

You notice the dotted pink markings across your triceps and try to solve their origins. Spread over your softest skin in tiny red-dot formation, wide like the aurora borealis, bright like the same. The straps of a bag heavy with ice and scissors and roses. The fingers as he play-man-handled you across the street because that street isn’t as pretty as this one. The new dress you rushed into for the sake of your reflection. The unfamiliar stairwell you wandered into while trying to find the other end of a girl locked outside, somewhere, calling to be let in because, “It’s a little cold out here.”

It is strange to remember that although bodies might permanently belong to us, we won’t always remember the things that have happened to them.

When someone gchats you and says, “I am feeling shitty and sad,” you can respond “me too” even if you are not. When someone tells you a joke and you cry instead of laugh because, oh god, that was so funny, be sure to tell them that is why. Even though humans are all built similarly, we must remember that emotionally, we are all very isolated.

Inside of our bodies there tends to be at least ten different parts that are actively trying to shut us down because bodies too get tired and frustrated. While some things are just naturally growing old, other parts are trying to stop completely. It is not up to us to agree or disagree with them. We just have to see how the parts respond to each other.

Remember that not every person who has died has had a name belong to them. Remember that for as long as you can.

Sarah Jean Alexander
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About The Author

Sarah Jean Alexander

Sarah Jean Alexander wrote a book called Wildlives. She lives in Brooklyn, NY.

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Good hair, crooked gait

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