Saturday, August 14, 2010


I'm alone here, in a new city. I can see the city lights below. The room is white, fine white sheets, in a tangle; white quilt, I'm too hot, then too cold. It's quiet, except for the underground house music on my headphones. I eat a mandarin from a white porcelain plate; the smell fills the room and slowly fades. It's after two AM; should I try to sleep? I see my hands in the mirror, whose hands are they? They look old. The music pauses and I hear my breathing, slowly in, slowly out, slowly in, slowly marking time. I'm reminded of "2001", I'm Dave Bowman, an astronaut aging silently as time accelerates. I have been alive so long. I am slowly decaying at my core but this pain will not release me. A cup of tea allows me to focus on a new aroma, warm, organic, complex and subtle. Time stops while I drink the tea... and then I'm back in the room again. My eyes are heavy. Oxygen.

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