I wore my favourite black dress that night – I still remember it vividly if I try hard enough. I’d bought it at the fair one Sunday with my mother… It had three pearl buttons on its velvet collar. Strange, the way it keeps appearing in my mind. My mind is emptying itself. The feeling is a mixture of terrifying and pleasant, like the first day of school. Like diving into a river. Yet I know this is eternal drowning there is no coming back up and walking back home
The wind is so strong up here that it feels as if it is blowing through my head instead of over it. It is cleansing my memory, so that soon enough I will forget everything. May was always particularly windy around here. May, what a month to go. I think soon enough I will let myself disintegrate, I will let myself fall. Yesterday two children walked by but they did not see me. They were playing hide and seek. They were younger than me, still snuggled deeply within the cotton-wool naivety of infancy. Maybe in a year or two they will come here on a secret rendezvous, but I’ll never know. In my place, within this in-between space, one can only reminisce, briefly, or imagine. I hope to leave a fragment of my imagination before I vanish completely. I wish the children had found me. I feel so lonely here. I hope
The night smelt of lilacs. It smelt of promise. As the sun fell behind the hills and we watched the sunset I felt it for a while, the beauty of my teenage age. Isa? Yes, my friend Isa and I walked to the town centre after the sun had gone to sleep, and bought ice cream and soda. Isa and I told each other everything. Isa had told me of the boy who had put his hand under her flowery blouse and gently touched her left nipple, and of the shivers that had run through her body in that hot afternoon in the empty classroom. First love. First passion. Yet it stops for some. Some are just not meant. Not meant to. I am freezing here. The night
That night was beautifully perfumed. I wish I could have the memory of that smell only, but everything is fading and I must tell this story quickly or I will forget my words the words to say that
Mother I wonder what you are thinking now. I wonder if you are in my room at this moment, sitting on my bed or staring anxiously outside the window. I wish my reflection could briefly face yours yet I am fading too quickly and there will be no time dead time dy-ing
You saw me out of the corner of your eye and knew I was the one you’d been looking for. You, the hand who grabbed me in the darkness voiceless mouthless and dragged me into the night what is that sound the only sound the sound of one pearl button falling but no one heard it no one as it fell into the night I wonder where it is now is it still there
I must be quick. I have forgotten my name. It was one of those names one forgets easily anyway. I am was a simple girl. The normal girl who was grabbed into the night by a pulsing hand how I wish I could dis re member that memory with no face but all too known that memory which obliterates everything will erase everything and myself already has
What is the point of saying – the man with no face the rude hand took me away and stole me
I hope I will never be found. Meant. Not to. I don’t want to be found like this mother
My consciousness is fading, pouring into nothingness. Still, May. I hope there will be flowers. It stops. For some. Soon. Too soon. I wish I could smell still.
It is fading less quickly because an object is interrupting the flow of its relentless dissipating currents. It is round and white like the moon.
2021
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