Yesterday you walked around the city and all the time you were doubling numbers in your head - two, four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four, one-hundred and twenty-eight and so on. You remembered doing this when you were young and it occured to you that life works in circles. The numbers pushed the sadness out of your heart. For a short time anyway, because you had to stop when the numbers got too big for your head and began to spill into the street.
Nobody likes to see that kind of thing.
-
The world is complete. You can scratch and scrape away at it, but all that's worth knowing is already there inside of you.
As you write these words, your eyes are drawn to the mute TV up on the wall. It beams out pop videos. Each one an alternate reality. This one now appears to be about a world where people communicate by dancing. It looks like a good place to be.
The world lasts for three-and-a-half minutes, it shakes its hair, it smiles at the camera.
There are no hidden layers of meaning. All is there on the surface. To each and every person you meet appears a different you.
You can hear the hum of warm bodies talking at tables in the place where you are right now.
You are an observer to your own strange actions. Every encounter happens by chance, and that makes reality feel even more fragile. Your soul feels heavy and tired, but still you crave more. You are speeding faster and faster into the future. The landscape is blurred. You follow the threads. You are sure that there is more heartbreak lying in wait.
Today, messages sent from your mobile communicator yield no replies.
-
dear world, I have burned up half my heart
dear world, I only have so much more to give
and you are the only world I know.
You write.
*
0 comments:
Post a Comment