« 2,000 Talmud tapes, or one loaded iPod | Main | Camera to iPod »

Dust

A friend once asked me if I never feel homesick.
I guess I never did.
Those days I just close my eyes and walk around in the library in my head.
I open all the books I lived, all the little stories, and read them once again.
Moments, monuments in my life.
Even the bad ones.
It is amazing how much stays locked in your head.
Pictures without negatives, never clicked and yet there.
Even smells if you concentrate hard enough.
Flashbacks.

I keep finding new books, walking in the library, my finger on the rugs, leaving a trace of moved dust.

Tonight, I want to be the dust in your eye, that makes you stop for a moment.
To wipe me away. To cry, to curse, to smile.
And after wiping out and standing still, you'll see the world clearly again.

You are a book in my library. Tonight I opened it.
Many empty pages, already there, waiting for the story.
Your face is still vague, only the contour is visible, some lines.
You're a ghost, a mystery.

I know nothing more than a name, a place, and some sentences you wrote.

I guess that's how all stories start.

Posted on March 21, 2005
in Limit of my knowledge

Digg this | Add to Delicious | Technorati reactions | Permalink | Comments (1)