Monday, July 8, 2013

I lost a very dear old friend yesterday. Such is life. Such will life be.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

More or Less

the limp in her right feet settled down quite well. like the puddles did all over the raw, dug streets after the shower. she took a painkiller but then, she takes painkillers like mint, so they now refused to intoxicate her hurt nerves as they used to, before. it might not be nerves, maybe just bones or even better, muscles. but the base of a toe is a very odd place to ache. and tremble. and throb crazily as she lies on her bed every night staring at the moist, yellow streetlight kissing her toenails.

there is no pain as intense as ear-pain. so she glared at her right foot in disgust. pressing, punching or tickling it didn't help. and she went on spending her static days within those blue sheets that now became a part of her body. when she turned, they turned. when she twisted, they twisted, when she cringed, they cringed. maybe it was the painkillers, but she felt a dumb all day. reading seemed pointless. watching movies, too harsh on the eyes. even important phone calls ceased to matter. there she lay, motionless and silent, her glance piercing through the ceiling towards the sky.

it was a cloudy day. it was a cloudy season. every single cloud seemed like a tight waterballoon- very steady at one moment and bursting into rain the very next. most of the times she curled her neck to get a view of the rains through the bedside window even while lying down. at others, she would drag her body up towards the window sill and lean against the wall. now she could see the big pink flat opposite to theirs' standing like an insoluble candyfloss in the rain. she could see girls of the neighbourhood school staring out of their green windows even during class hours. she could see open umbrellas tossing and turning in the wind just like in films. but most close to her, she could see her undergarments drying on the window sill. drying, yes they were, for the past seven days, but now turned into a lump of wet, soaking black and blue. she wondered if there was any point of rescuing them now. she doesn't even wear them anymore. for a really long time. the bed did not mind her flabby loose lady parts. so she just let it pass.

the little baby boy that smothered her dead last autumn did not come back again. but now an old couple lives there. she could see the old lady standing in the balcony half wet and her husband making tea in the kitchen. there he is, moving away from the kitchen window and then appearing on the balcony, two cups on a tray...

the little baby boy is dead. but she felt she could cry now. more or less.