Ungraspable One

Don’t think that I’m wooing.
Angel, and even if I were, you would not come. For my call
is always filled with departure; against such a powerful
current you cannot move. Like an outstretched arm
is my call. And its hand, held open and reaching up
to seize, remains in front of you, open
as if in defense and warning,
Ungraspable One, far above.

Rilke (trans. Stephen Mitchell)

Venlafaxine

Before, she felt weak and unreal. She played people up against each other and made enemies. Her gaze was a trap for anyone with an open face. She felt guilty about nothing and lost all inspiration. Her clients stopped calling. After, the world slowly came into focus again. She looked though herself and into the world. She started talking to people as equals. One day she found herself turning on her laptop and opening the programme for the first time in months. She only made squiggles, but they meandered more freely than they used to. Soon she was creating large-scale designs that flowed from her mind as naturally as a spring flows down a mountain. New clients called. She looked at her plants with solicitude – she spoke to them and found better places for them. She cleaned blinds and lampshades and stood pursing: her house needed attention, rearrangement: there was work to be done.