Bruising results from the release of blood from the capillaries into the tissues under the skin. The characteristic bluish-black mark on the skin lightens in color and eventually fades as the blood is absorbed by the tissues and carried away.
At 11 p.m. tonight, it will be exactly one week after the attack. My bruises have cleared; my back and side still hurt a little but they could just be muscle cramps. I still lie awake at night but even the fear is fading; the faceless men tip-toeing slowly out of my dreams.
Previous to this entry, I wrote about reconnecting with a friend in the U.S. but a connection error erased the entire account. Too lazy to rewrite. Too tired to remember. (He still waits for me to put the receiver down first. He still waits for the “click,” the dial tone that hums Sweet dreams.)
I read in an online review that “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” is really a (tender) deconstruction of perceptions on love more than a movie about love. And right now, I am agreeing. The hazy edges and the blinking lights that frame Joel and Clementine is probably the closest thing to recreating the atmosphere of memory. In two weeks or a month, most definitely in a year --- love, hatred, anger, sadness --- everything is reduced to foggy, overcast hang-over mornings. See-through skin, glowy eyes, salty lips. Indistinct, but important. Mostly perceived, but the realest thing to real. Love is.
Happy Birthday, Margie! May you never forget.