Archive for Moments

While I Was Waiting

I was waiting, staring through the window as if the glass wasn’t there.

It was harder to do the same thing with walls. How funny, when you think about it, since both are made of sand. Walls and windows. Like coal and diamonds.

I think I prefer the transparent forms.

He came and turned around. Yes, the shirt was great, and he looked fine. I just wanted us to leave already, but he thought that the shirt did not really feel like The Shirt for The Evening. He needed more time to decide.

I turned and looked outside.

I was getting really good at this; now I could see through the curtain of snowflakes as if they were not there. But, the walls were not giving up yet. Well, I had plenty of time.

Departure

The last time I was dying did not hurt this much; less pain resided inside of me back then.

Just before you die, all the sediments of pain raise and morph into a whirlwind which only intent is to leave you. That separation hurts even more than harboring the anguish, but this time I endure. After the agony of the detachment is over, the pain is gone.

If I could feel, I would rejoice. But, I can not; I am gone, too.

The Foreigner (a close encounter of the third kind)

The first question she popped out caught her new friend off guard; or… did it? She could not read people’s faces that well back then, especially not a face like his, but however he behaved or whatever he said would not have mattered that much; she had already decided that the only interesting person she saw since they came here will become her new friend.

“Why are you black?”

“Wow, that’s a good question; well, my mom was black and my dad was black; I guess that is why I turned out black, too…”

“I like you.”

A lady came nearly running all the way from the other side of the hotel lobby, murmured something even she herself did not understand, and then started dragging her daughter away from the tall guy who was waving back to the little girl whose eyes were turning into waterfalls.

The Mirror Whisperer

– Am I real?
– Why wouldn’t you be?

– I am not visible.
– You do not have to be visible in order to be real.

– I was visible recently. Now, when I look at you, I am not. I have changed.
– Do you think the change was from “real” to “unreal”?

– You tell me. I can not see my own reflection in you. How’s that for “being real”?!
– Hmmm, have you ever heard of vampires?

… continue reading this entry.

Paper Cut

On a sunny summer day I was lying on a pier, with my head resting on your lap. There were no waves. The turquoise sea was calm, almost silent.

I heard the buzz coming from the people sitting in a small café on the beach and shouts of children in the background. They were there, cut and pasted from another time, another place. They did not see us, in spite of the train of my dress covering about one-third of the pier, coloring it red. We were there in our own invisible bubble, more real for us than reality itself was; non existing for others.

… continue reading this entry.

An Accidental Murderer

A murderer is in my bed, lying next to me, breathing silently. She looks like the most innocent creature that ever walked the Earth, nothing but gentle softness resides in her transparent aura.

Her cheek on my hand feels light as a feather. Her body is warm and dry like a good summer day. All the hugs and kisses stained her with my perfume; she smells so sweet. The scent feels different and even better on her than the pure concentrate from the bottle.

I kiss her perfect little forehead and she makes a small sound while dreaming of her past and future killings.

My little angel kills with her innocence unharmed. No, she never regrets it. Still, she always gets confused in front of Death. She does not understand. Where did Life go?

I struggle hard to ignore all the killings, I do not want to think of them. I love her as she is, my little furry darling angel. My little accidental murderer.

Pink

They were pearly whitish-pink in color, tiny, deceivingly transparent and delicate, steadily moving forward on the top of the balcony fence.

Those light pink, small legs were carefully avoiding drops of evening rain collected together into miniature puddles on cold metal. They reminded me of our hands. I wanted to touch them and hold them; they looked so warm and alive.

***

I wandered around the apartment that night, tormented by insomnia. In the moment that must have been an odd synchrony of our paths, I looked through the glass balcony door and saw those fragile pink legs engaged in movement; a hairy grayish body and a head with a long nose above; small dark eyes that did not register me behind the glass.

I was always horrified by a mere thought of those creatures. I used to scream soundlessly before the imaginary pictures of them. Yet, all I cared about back that night was not to scare it. I moved carefully and silently away from the door.

Duality

MyEye

On some days I get reminded that someone made me a dual creature. I am human and I am robot.

They do not know that I know that I am robot as well. My human being is hiding it from the robot intruder and from them. It is my own little secret.

Today I opened the dishwasher after the washing program was done and the steam from it fogged my left eye lens. My robot reflexes were fast, but this time my human perception was faster. The robot reflexes quickly moved my head away from the steam, turning it to the right while instantly rolling the semi-organic lenses down, covering the previously exposed hard robot lenses.

The movement came too late for my left eye, and that is how the human perception came into the picture; I saw my robot eye lens fogging for a few milliseconds, if that long. Anyway – long enough. I am human and I am robot.