Sunday, August 5, 2007


I found him tiresome, but the moment he left I wanted him once more. It's not indecision that plagues me, but an irreconciliation between reality and ideas.

The road was winding. Not a sound except barking dogs and dead leaves being crushed beneath our feet. There was no hurry. Not that I cherished him so dearly. I didn't mind his company. At certain moments it got a little weary, but no more weary than boredom is. For the most part he was just there . We were together out of my indifference and his willingness, but when I was alone once more his absence disquieted me. What was previously insignificant to me emerged as lost familiarity.


Anonymous said...

You've shifted your cupboard in the room. Shifted your bed. Threw away some stuff to make a space in the corner. For the parcel he gave you.

But it's an empty parcel.

You sleep in your bed, moved to a new position. You wake up staring at the parcel. You watch the parcel gather dust. And you repeat all these over and over again. Finally, you throw it away too.

And now, you've got an empty space in the corner. And you don't know what to do with it.

gypsy girl said...

you're right.