…the bell tolls and i can hear it even though i exist in a land between shadow and sunshine. the sound is muted but the meaning behind it is not. time marches on it seems to intone in ponderous tones. neither mortal nor immortal will wait for the moon to change face. who makes the rules? and who keeps track when they are broken? for in those rules lies the truth of distance and absence…
….the candlelight is so faint that your face is obscured by the shadows. i bend to pick up the candle and move it closer to your face but your fingers curl around my wrist and gently push it back. ignorance is bliss indeed. the glint in your eyes moves with the light, sometimes making your eyes smile and sometimes filling them up with a strange liquid. the darkness where your mouth is occasionally opens to reveal a flashing brightness. and as the night fades between our slow breathing your fingers reach out and touch my lips…
…every evening you open the window at the back of the house and stare at the birds making their way home. hands folded across your chest, feet splayed out you stand like a statue sculpted in stone. what is it about that birds that attracts you? is it the regularity of return? is it the curtain of dusk sliding across your body? or is it the tired cries of the birds as they squabble and settle down? whatever the reason this rigid ritual furrows your brow at first and as the last rays of the sun are pushed under the hill a small smile opens up a dimple on your left cheek…
…while you talked i looked at the way your mouth moved, at the way your eyes lit up with the light of a deepening bond. i watched the way your hands moved through the air as if underlining some important point. and I felt the belief behind your words touch me like spring would touch my winter-hardened skin…
…we know how to add and subtract. to balance all the equations that make us dance around each other. a minus sign here, a small addition there that can be divided by our finite attention. but can you multiply the gaps in our conversation? can you add a few zeros to the frown on your face?…
…there are no apologies. no apologies indeed. i am just waiting for the pieces to fall into place like a giant jigsaw puzzle played by gods in three dimensions. the wail of the guitar pierces the silence bringing with it whole verses of emotion. who will follow me? i can go alone but i do need someone in the back seat to catch my ego if it falls…
…change is a funny thing. it is always beneath, around and even inside us but we are always the last to recognize it. we let it pass us by and then when it is ‘cool’ we run after it and try to embrace it. grow up son….the world is not waiting around for you to live life again…
…he has come back to haunt his old space, anonymous and untouched, its very pristine nature a subtle attraction. will the rawness still elude him or will he be consumed in its inelegant display of private emotion? a new graphical interface, eye-candy for the digitally insane. but who the fuck cares? not you, not him for sure. all that matters is that there are a billion thoughts waiting in a mental closet for his mechanical fingers to transmute for universal consumption. these days he is turning into himself more and more, living in the unperturbed arena of creative obscurity. a closed circle within an open loop. this is his life in a short sentence. does that satisfy your voyeuristic curiosity?…
…hear the small and subtle sounds you miss. the sounds of flowers blooming and the clouds moving. the whisper of grass growing under your feet. the steady drone of tiny feet behind the curtain of leaves. the subsonic humming of butterflies. the quiet patter of rain walking on your window panes. the tidy tides carting in and out the flotsam and jetsam of humanity’s dark deeds. nature at work…quietly…
…solitude and silence are like a long and lovely novel, endless, delightful and sustaining your soul on long evenings. what would we be without them? an empty and broken shell of cold blood and withering flesh just drinking out of the same old cup of jaded familiarity and vacuous companionship…
…what shall I talk about? shall i describe to you how beautiful a woman’s smile is when she is in love? or shall i tell you how the laughter of lovers tells so many stories? or shall i narrate a story about this guy who was directionally challenged? or can i wax rhapsodic about the sublime pleasures of seeing the world in stark tones of black and white? or maybe i can whisper to you how breathtakingly beautiful sudden silence is?
but the angel of sleep is making impatient sounds on my bed so i shall have to give in to her charms. therefore, let me disappear my dear into her soundless arms. i can then forget how failure tastes and instead learn to appreciate the slow burn of eternity…
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