Monday, 5 October 2009

not so usual...

A ‘hello’ that feels uneasy, uninvited, disturbing, un-emotional, obliged. A friend, who is not a friend; a wolf that’s not wolf, nor a lion.

House is empty, lights are off. How easy it is to be with oneself.

Running shoes, pony tail, a jacket.

The ‘event’:

His breath stank of wine; a cloud of drunkenness surrounded his every move. She heard his back crack like a broken branch, his green eyes looking at his state with tiredness, fragility. She failed every attempt of picking him up. His hands were dirty with leaves and mud; which he tried to wipe off with his coat before holding her hand; but his weight kept pulling downwards and the melancholy of his solitude covered him with an unnecessarily heavy fog. She felt as if she was holding him and not, at the same time. She was holding the empty body of an already inexistent man.
A diseased soul, the empty package of a lost chain of dreams. Suddenly the heaviness became part of her too. She wondered if she would ever love someone; she wondered if she would ever feel this lonely; she wondered if she would ever fall like this, she hoped for someone to pick her up, would she fall.

Sixth track and the fog covered the place in an embrace. A man runs past her and mumbles something undistinguishable through her earphones.
End of the track and the gate is locked. As she walks to the next door, a man and a dog walk by and disappear (probably through that same door, and with the aid of a key (not a ‘Tim Key’, just a regular key)). Next door is also locked, third, fourth door: locked. There is no way out, and in a moment of ‘I don’t-careness’ she imagines herself sleeping in this park, the cold fog hiding her from everyone, the trees drawing shadows on the ground and spiders crawling on her shoes. Silence starts to vanish to welcome a night time soundtrack, it’s as if the fog and the wind were holding conversations; there is no silence, it doesn’t exist here.
But that is not a possibility: sleeping there. No mobile phone, no keys, just a woman with a small dog and an Indian man with the creativity to build a bridge with a rubbish bin. One step, two steps, don’t be afraid of heights, just put the foot in the right place; now jump….

What a weird evening. Unusual.

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