Have you ever been in a city whose residents live inside clockwork boxes? Does it sound strange? In a city full of square or rectangular or triangular boxes, wrapped by fancy papers and colorful ribbons. Have you been in such a city? I suppose that the initial question may have been forgotten, maybe because I myself have a weak memory too. So, I am repeating it once more. Have you ever been in a city whose residents live in clockwind boxes? And I think that I forgot to say exactly where this clockwind mechanism is. First of all it is huge and it needs the strength of many men together in order to be winded and give the box its right function, whereas other times –something really strange- a sudden accidental push by only one person is enough! What was I saying? Ah, yes. If these memory break-ups continue to torment me then I am really wondering how I will be able to narrate what I want to narrate about this strange city.
It was one of those cold mornings that I don’t dare to go out and decide to stay home, in front of the fire place having my laptop as my only company. But at that day I couldn’t find peace anywhere. Everything was a source of annoyance. The way that the fire flames were creaking, how slow the internet connection was. Even the shapes of the clouds over my house were more sullen than usual. I was under the influence of one of those irritations which overwhelm me more and more often as I grow up and make me be less patient than I used to be. I got dressed quickly and I went out to walk. A stroll without any particular destination. I am one of those keen walkers who hum softly and sleepily all around the city streets as if they are giant insects, looking around and observing, with the veneration of an ant, the faces around them and every crack of the pavement under their feet. Everything is a miracle for these walkers and for me as well. Even when I have seen a thing a hundred times, I have this ability to feel inside me the unique weight of its slightest change, this kind of change that others would need months or years to notice. I am already speaking as if I belong to a different race of people, the walkers’ race and in fact I am talking as if I consider my race as being superior in a way. But the fact is that I know how to hide my narcissism well. Really though, I don’t think that a person can stand amazed and stunned in front of a door knuckle let’s say. This door knuckle is dappled with the drizzle traces today. It creaks a bit differently or is it just the same to the yesterday knuckle it was? Knowing that my eyes will stand at it and will notice its difference, sends secret shivers down my spine. I think that deep inside me I do admire myself for this ability. Everything is an endless source of constant excitement for me.
I am bubbling again! A person so lonely that finds the distant walks in the city so delightful what else can he do but bubble?
But I have to continue and tell you about the city of the clockwind boxes. It is much nearer than I think, if I may plunge my head in the surrounding air, the way birds plunge their little heads into the water. Then I can see this city looming majestic from the depths of an unknown horizon. It is more than enough to feel that I tear the screen of the atmosphere around me and enter another one. A different atmosphere. An atmosphere with no air. I know it’s very difficult but I think that the secret lies in my abilities to have all my senses acute and fully working, like a giant machine that is ready to tear me apart if I don’t pay attention to the direction of its drone and the warnings of its roars. These roars function as antennae, so if the sound should become clear, I can pretend that I am not afraid at all and give them a chance to show what they can do for me. This way I am able to see how far I can take it....[...............]
Good writing makes for good reading. Thank you!
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