It's late....

Flash... something

I'm supposed to be writing, but I haven't been...

There's something electric about the look in her eyes as she sits, glistening guacamole green to the second knuckle. It's an extraordinary thing to watch the ecstatic way she eats something she enjoys. Her with her wild hair and hawkish features, her bony fingers and easy smile.
It's almost as though she experiences things on another level, has a more... intrinsic experience. You can almost see it on her face 'This thing is good and in this moment I'll stay until it's gone; or no longer good.'
What a way to live life, living and dying by a series of finite moments? The good most be so much more vivid, all bright colors and round flavors. The bad, doubly devastating and ashen.
There reckless sort of freedom attached. Normal boundaries only apply in the most loose of interpretations. Curisosity always fully engaged. Questions spill forth, yet there is a surety - a bald confidence underneath.
Here lives this educated hippie, with grabby toes and spindly limbs, diving heart first into life.