Still with the last dream of the morning stuck to him, lazily sipping the nth smoothie for breakfast (which could have happened to three people, maybe even fewer, but anyway it was perfectly OK), he let his mind begin to wander through parallel universes, memories, moments, and sensations by now burned into his own I Am.
Without any effort, simply letting himself go, letting himself be transported…
Immersing himself holding his breath in that depth almost to the point of drowning, as it couldn’t ever have been done differently, anyway, as usual.
Immobile, waiting, observing every detail, always from the allowed distance, he thought, again, about all the time past.
Observing, feeling… Open to every emotion transmitted by that soul to which it was impossible to remain indifferent. Like an antenna oriented on the strongest radio signal.
He thought, again, about all the words said, of those never pronounced, and of those that, maybe one day, he’d have the chance to say.
He saw in front of himself moments frozen in time and destined to remain there. That look, that hug, that smile, that hand…
He imagined and…
He lit up his first cigarette of the day, and began to write, following the unstoppable flow of his thoughts for an indefinite amount of time, completely enraptured by his own mind and by those photographs.
At one point, he stopped, suddenly.
Swallowed the last sip accompanied by the noise of the air in the straw. He closed his notebook, and put down his black pen in its place.
The sun was already high, the air entering through the open window seemed to promise a good day. The smoothie was finished.
And now it was time to put everything in a drawer, at least for a little bit. It was time to go.
Translation: Starleen K. Meyer
“Television antenna” by George Hodan