July winter. Summer February. Galloping snail, talks to me voiceless. Telling me stories that can’t be told. A snowstorm in sweltering heat. Burning every part of me which is soaked in tears. Laughter under the protection of invaluable sorrow. There, I keep everything I’ve never owned. Courage. Humility. And a generous portion of moderate speak.
The snail catches up with everything trailing ahead of me. It befriends with creatures of infallible beauty. A plant, emerging from a flower, with wings of a spider, and a cry of an aria of violets sinking into a cloud of unbearable weight.
Upon this cloud I have all my life. Believing, with the arrogance of an atheist, that one day I could fly.
I ran with all the speed I could generate from my dreams. But I could never catch up with the snails, that started the race well behind me. I turned, on a straight line. I stood aside, when nobody was there to overtake me. And, naturally, I lost victoriously.
The party, my God, how magnificent! From all over the world, an absence beyond belief. Beyond description. I remember every movement, of every face. Especially those who are dead. No expression. I remember friends which never were. Laughter, I had never tasted. Love, as love has never been experienced before.
Music regulated to perfection. The crowd hilariously exposed to a tragic misunderstanding of ecstasy. My name was called, but other creatures, which I never encountered in all my life, appeared and claimed a dividend of unjustified fame.
Seasons overwriting the fragrance of every tree which belonged to relevant months. Programs confused. People, who believed in nothing, had exceeded the limits of enthusiasm. And yet once again I invested in this parody of certified uncertainty. I looked up, and confronted unlimited and scary depth. I looked down, and I was welcomed by wonder.
Winter came, and Fall repeated. Leaves scattered beneath my skin, and formed a blanket of brown, orange and yellow warmth. I sang, with my voice absent and cold. I looked, with my eyes away. I loved, with my heart in constant confusion. Summer, always February. As wrong as a whisper in absolute silence. In search of light, or was it something else? A scratch, maybe, on the skin? A prayer of no reason? Or, a verdict which cannot be explained?
I must complete. Indefinite are the answers to all my certainties. How on earth, can I ever get my questions right?
Help!...
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