watch the light pass through vertical blinds and pinstripe my computer screen. magnolias bouncing in their vase as my fingertips tap on the keys. iron and wine. red lady bugs against a yellow backdrop, one inside my mug peeking up through the coffee horizon. toes are cold. red fuzzy socks. cars and people pass by. dog naps. butter melts. oven heats. smell cinnamon. the furnace exhales. as i do. we all do. and that breath is gone. forever. perhaps wasted. perhaps not. perhaps.
today i am a camera. but there is not just mechanical clickings and electrical charges and openings and closings and lights and shadows. there is a cesspool of experiencing and of feeling and of tearless crying and of laughing and of remembering and of not knowing.
there was more. i wrote it. and lost it. the most important pieces are this:
i tried so hard to stop them, i pleaded and i begged and i tried to yell at them. but i am small. and i am quiet and i am not old. and they ignored me. and as i tried so hard i retreated into that cold gray room with the wooden door that leads to the closet of my teenage years. i hid them in there, weezul and azreal. they were hunting them, and i denied their existence to try and save them. then the people all set up in my bedroom with their computers and their machinery and their gadgets and they wouldnt leave. and i didnt want to stand directly in front of the door because they would know i was hiding something in there. but he had watched me put them in there. he knew. and when he saw how intent she was on catching them, he turned on her. and he tried to help me. but they expelled him. and i was alone in this fight. each time i stepped away from the door to verbally pursue them, i looked back to see the door was open, and i had to close it again. but i cant stand too close or they will know. so i stepped away, and it opened again. and i closed it again, and it repeated several times. until finally, he came to me, through the crowded room, with a child in his arms. and with him, like a beam of light, it all made sense, and my struggle was lifted, and it didnt seem to matter anymore, these people that i was fighting against. in his arms was a young girl, perhaps one or two years old. blind. not blind, actually, without eyes. white spheres inserted where her beautiful eyes would be. and on them, the same inscription as was on his chest. with my fingers i reached out and closed her soft eyelids. i stroked the bridge of her nose and read aloud his wish for her, as was tattooed on their skin. it brought tears to my eyes.
i repeated it to myself over and over so i wouldnt forget it when i woke.
but all i remember was that her name was salfa.