7

So we made it. So cool, huh? Now I am sitting in Armen's house writing and he is making tea. I feel the need to describe what is going on right now instead of on the carry, maybe I should have taken notes as we walked. We are amazing. We started at the Monument on the Eastern Prom, the pointy and plain piece of granite pointing to the sky. We bowed in a way to the Ocean but we didn't really bow, we just acknowledged and breathed. Then a look to Congress Street and we were ready. I jumped on Armen's back and felt really determined and we started walking and we moved uphill a little ways. Before we had left I told Armen to take his time and not feel rushed please. When we started to go he told me it would all fall into place and we would find the way. It was great. I told Armen he was amazing and tried to sing to him a little but the movement on my diaphragm made it a little hard to be soothing. I remember saying it felt like cuddling while walking. Armen was concentrated and moving pretty swiftly. One man said why don't you start running and we laughed. Before that we saw a man who said wow, let's see how far you make it and Armen said we were going to Monument Square and he laughed. We took our first break at the Church of Immaculate Conception on Congress street. Armen just bent over with his hands on his knees and I hung over him like a rag doll. It felt cool just hanging there over someone's back on the sidewalk, pretty oblivious to cars and people around me. We started again and I closed my eyes. That felt really nice. It was like I was floating on a cloud for a moment I envisioned myself being as light as a cloud and felt very comfortable. A woman behind us laughed and said it should have been the other way around, I should have been carrying him. I thought of all the strange ratios Arnmen would experience over the 100 carries, how there would be big people on his back and little people and different gender and color people and how strange it must seem to some people just to see that anyway. Armen said it was interesting to see different people's personalities come out on the carries. He seemed very focused but maintained conversation readily and in an interested way. We took another couple breaks I think but I don't remember where. I saw a friend as we walked and stopped to tell her about the project as Armen paused. I felt like a advertisement billboard and felt embarrassment for a second, but realized I am just wanting to support the project in that way I guess. We made it to Monument Square. A dog looked at us funny it was funny. Spirits are still high and we're still moving on. Armen says he wants to do this for a living and talks about possibilities to do that and his want to keep carrying after the 100 carries as long as his body allows. We are now half way through. Armen's hands have been hurting from clutching my legs and carrying my weight. We stop again and the openness and looseness in his back is amazing. I feel like I am resting in the hammock of his frame. Up the hill is easier he says and we make our way up. I am focusing on keeping my head out of the way. My arm's strong, my stomach clenched and my legs light. I alternate from wanting to relax fully and clench fully, release or help, I go back and forth. Armen says it is a game of readjustment. I say I am challenged to find ease in hardship knowing readjustment is there as a choice. We make it to Saint Laurence Church and take another break. Armen walks slowly over the ice in his crocs and makes it back to the monument. He feels for the railing as he walks around the monument and struggles a little in the snow. It has been fun to be so close with him. He puts me down and we both feel our bodies. Mine feels light but begins to settle with heaviness. Armen is very warm and sweaty with a smile on his face and we walk back to my car and his apartment. I feel such admiration for his devotion, courage, perseverance, and will. I ask to carry him as we get closer to his house and he lets me even though I almost dropped him completely the first time we try. He is light and it feels really good to hold him and carry his weight for a second. We talk about the realization physical weight can bring to acknowledging how people deal in their relationships to others and ourselves. Then we make our way upstairs and I write. Peace and Love. -

kATE
Portland, Maine

6

The ocean, a plethora of directions, routes, destinations. The runway, linear, chosen.

The beginning is rough and uncomfortable. I try to find a mutually comfortable place to rest, but everything I try doesn't feel right. I notice my wet feet scrapping against his legs. I push my feet away to try and keep him from getting wet.

Slowly things begin to feel more natural. His body heats up and his breath quickens. His steps are short and careful when we step over ice.

No connection can be made without sharing a strong feeling. My legs and arms ache as they become fused to his. Our eyes become as one, scanning the sidewalk for the best route to take. My own feelings and worries are replaced by those of our new entity. This new being doesn't care about school or friends or family - it cares about it's own goals and accomplishments.

Soon a routine is established. We walk until I slide too far down his body, he scoots me up, and we start walking again. With something to focus on, time goes by quicker. Moments pass. As it becomes harder and harder to hold on, I feel myself gripping tighter and tighter. Afraid that I'm making this harder, I loosen my grip and put more weight forward.

My legs are numb once we reach the last stretch. Our connection hurts more than ever as it is finalized in the last few yards of our journey. He scoots me up one last time and takes me around the monument at the end of congress street. We rest for a moment, then I slide off his back and my feet touch the ground for the first time in an hour. We look at the ocean, then at what we have just done. Though the pain has stopped, the connection is still there. The experience is sealed forever in our histories.


Elliot McInnis
Munjoy Hill
Portland, Maine