I was lying in my bed, having an
intimate wordless chat with insomnia. After a while I chose to focus on the
pace of words bubbling out into the darkness through the wormhole thoughts you are not even aware of, on
narrators voices, thoughts merge into as if they were softly caught in a
chant, thoughts can fly in a low pitched voice to share simple sensations. Deep within an
almost hypnotic state before I fell asleep somehow I felt the hold of your
fingers on the top of my fingertips. As if our palms would have smoothly slid
one over the other and fingerstalls remained clung, resisting separation, flooding mind with images. Your images, their taste and colorful smell, the
feeling of seeing someone filmed through water, speaking with long and muffled
sounds like the whale language in finding nemo. I wish I could have this language translated into a visual
alphabet. Fluid. Able to reach you out. This would be the way to tell you more.
No, not more. Only longer. Photo: www.husseinchalayan.com/
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