I thought you may want to know

I opened her email curiously and I started to read.

I always thought that looking deep in someone’s eyes is like throwing a hook to secure a safety landing in that person’s mind. I can even picture that slowly roll on a climbing rope until one’s hand reaches the other’s shoulder. And becomes translucent and hazily attached like some sort of shadow, in a different stage of molecular coherence. “This was a soft landing my friend; I am closer to you now. Or you are closer to me now. Or whatever... makes you feel comfortable”.

But it is not. It is like a door ajar that allows a flow of things to come in. And the conquest was nothing but smooth. An insinuated glide past the unconscious mind, random and erratic... but all of a sudden the conscious mind opposed waking up in the middle of the night quivering. “I do not know what you are doing in my mind...but you’d better get out”. However, those moments when a flow of images suddenly pumped up out of nowhere were just the preamble of other weird things that happened.

I used to know that we lived in the same neighborhood. But, we rarely met. Our time frame overlapping is strict and well regulated, no other contact than exchanging few glances, few words nothing important. But, that time our encounter was completely unexpected. Somehow, both of us seemed taken by surprise. Or at least so it looked and so it sounded. The hesitant small talk, stroked me unexpectedly. “Oh, I have found a backpack I was talking about in the email... I thought you may want to know”. The words remained suspended in the middle of the road, as the talk turned abruptly towards other things totally unrelated. Minutes later, this short happenstance ended curtly and we both left as if nothing ever occurred.

And it was not like I have been thinking for a while earlier that day, is my damn backpack clean or not. Have I washed it or not... it is not polite to lend a dirty thing. However, I am sure everything is going to be all right, without my help, anyway. And those unimportant words caught me off guard “I thought you may want to know”. ”Oh... ok” was everything I was able to say as my mind stopped for a while. What the heck is going on?! Why would you say that and how have you... oh god. I do not want to know how much, or how often...or simply how. I just do not.

I was about to write to her...I think you are overreacting, overthinking, over analyzing some random sequences of events. You give too much importance to details. But I changed my mind. Because I remembered. I remembered how it was to be emotionally synchronized, well too synchronized for your mind to accept others’ feelings running through your veins, making you nauseous, anxious. Likewise, the reversed effect, causing your consciousness to perceive, to the point of no return, that it may happen for your emotions to massively ooze out, and each and every thread of your sheath would be ripped off, leaving your entire being exposed and vulnerable.

And somehow, all the unspoken details of her strange encounter unfolded, skillfully placed here and there within the hidden layers of her story. A phrase remained stack in my head and kept spinning over and over.

But, sometimes I miss being there.

... and sent her back. I guess he knows... that

Photo: Hattie Ellis/Getty Images on http://www.npr.org/2013/06/24/195193839/turning-points

breakthrough

She is my half. The brilliant, shiny, adventurous half that makes me a marvelous and quiet, yet complete lunatic. She has been the code breaker of my strange, dyslectic, amalgamated but visually stunning world in my head. I am the peculiar creator, but inexplicably the inept reader of my own nature. So I need her wits to help me unfold the elliptic world to erase my fears. Yet, that crazy and ambiguous dream realm my mind creates is the escape route during the night that pushes me away in the abyss to save my own hide. As all the unspoken thoughts and desires are, at the same time, guilty and innocent. Beyond all, there was always a residual meaning that keeps floating in my conscious perception putting together what I felt and what my skin remembered. Out of the whole surrealist stage of that dream, what lingered the longest was the sense of comfort in a bed that appeared out of nowhere on a sidewalk, cocooning two strangers in a white downy linen. That man’s arm stretched over me to prevent the fall. Later on, I realized why. I need him to cure my stuttering self, to pat my soul and shoulders, to whisk the dust and paper clips. The hide and seek stopped for a while, her words were the Ariadne’s thread that guided me out of my own maze. She raised her head and looked at me with that expression of an old and tired cryptographer and said “you have to enter a collision course to find the right shape. It’s a matter of choice after all”.  At any moment that there is a choice to be made, make one arbitrarily from those not already marked as failures, and follow it logically as far as possible. Unwittingly, I have already made all the wrong choices.

Photo: http://www.gettyimages.com/detail/video/moving-down-a-digital-data-labyrinth-stock-footage/160670441 - snapshot

Doors

Coincidences are transcendent spices that transfer the savor of a different dimension to a tasteless reality. As if they were opening a pink door shifting among a number of concurrent possible realities. Like some promises coming from another world where any possibilities are slowly ripening, following other rules, beyond comprehension.   

One night I saw you in my dream, standing in front of a locker with a sport bag on your shoulder. In a world full of details the only thing I noticed - besides the distance separating us - was the similar shoes we were wearing, mine light purple, yours vivid green, with the same white sides. That me, was seated on a bench at one end of the hall, and fumbled in a bag to find a T-shirt while peeking at you. Few days later, I got a message from you. By mistake. It was your turn to search and fumble about some things to wear. I should have told you, maybe, that you would look great in something casual-chic, maybe sporty. A bright color to match your dark hair. But I did not.

There is always a game of colors and movements. Small changes of fulcrum, and the plans slowly slide in a strange subduction drift. But, there is no closer. There is always a transparent door cutting with surgical precision even the molecules of air, sealing the worlds apart. However, I wait for a moment when I can approach imperceptibly to paint on that door with words and fingers. This is how your smile and the line of your shoulder is seen from afar.  

Photo: tumblr.com

Excerpts in italics: http://dilemaveche.ro/sectiune/tema-saptamanii/articol/strange-phenomena

Rough

I am still thinking about that shooting, even though, I would never be able to bring it to life. I have the clear image in my head. I can see it. I can see the choreography of the shoot. Black and white. Maybe a bit dark, but soulful. And there is you, your small delicate frame populating an imaginary world, with your tutu skirt, naughty and vaporous, a tight top and black leather jacket. Knee high socks and Converse shoes. Sort of 80s I guess. Smokey eyes, thick mascara, and perfect lipstick contouring. There is something dangerous and endearing in this crazy minimalist mind built scenario, an old shabby building with light coming through dirty windows of hallways. An elevator with ragged and creaking doors. And a white, white and scratched wall to project the poses. And life. And stories, maybe yours or maybe somebody else’s. Your delicate hands and wrists up on the elevator doors like a brutal pinning of shadows and memories. Ghostly hot lips down the neck and sweet lies. I’m gonna call you and they never did. Sensuous line of knee, outsole sliding down on the elevators wall... dark eyes looking down your shoulder. The rough and needy hands, hoarse whispers that coat the cramped cubicle. I want you now and forever. But you know there is just unfocused now, but no forever. Those stories are now lying on a side on the stairs, with smudged mascara and bitten lips. Disheveled hair and cold fingers brushing down the cheeks. These lenses are an exorcising trigger making those memories to come unstrung with a part of heart, leaving behind a raw, vivid wound. And there are long weeps that whisper a chant of forgiveness and salvation, washing away the darkness. There are still deep breathings gasping the fresh air after the rain. Somehow, we both know there is a jump waiting. Back to the life that has been unintentionally ignored so far. 

Demon tamer

You are a demon tamer and you are playing a dangerous game. Stay away or turn back. You are only the tamer that makes peace offerings to allure demons; you slash their throats and pull up all the bitterness. I shall bath myself into the blood of beast and claim my own redemption. Stop coming so close. Stay there.... Your fragrance is so sweet. Like vanilla. And yours enticing and persistent like the red thread fading its color to foggy nothingness. Stop coming so close. Stay there. I just want to say that you are beautiful. That’s it. Your words have woody trail and bergamot touches and heaviness of a whisper in the wind. Your light touch makes me remember that my shoulders levitate up high above the hips. It’s only a half of me here. No wonder, I miss long breaths and erratic heartbeats. And butterfly’s flutters squirming my insides.

But now I know ...it just hit me hard how simple it was. Somehow, I am a singularity point that went wrong. That’s why half of me is transparent and devoid, and clouded. My heart simply slipped somewhere else, between the strings. Soon my left hand will go looking for my heart to get it back or to push it forward. Or rip apart flesh of things that keep you hostage in a different, probably parallel timeline.  

Photo: https://500px.com/photo/129033355/reach-out-by-takashi-yasui