“Ghosts, to make themselves manifest, require two conditions abhorrent to the modern mind: silence and continuity,” Edith Wharton (from her book, Ghosts)
Funnily enough, just yesterday I was discussing the necessity of silence – especially in nature. The need to close the human mouth & pause its outflow under a canopy of trees, for example, is some kind of gorgeous silence.
Then later, I was pondering the parts of continuity that include wreckage & pain, breakdown & grief – the cyclical upheaval of It All.
Does that make me a ghost? Or was a ghost around me, tapping on my skull & dumping in these thoughts? There are days when I know I am a ghost of myself. There are dusks when I weep for the ghost of my Nonna. I have ghosts of memories that flicker in my periphery like power outages. I think…my mortality speaks in ghost tongue.