Saturday, April 9

saturday rhapsody

i haven't written anything in english for ages. so there's another one for juan :)
this time you've come too far... i listen to the music chosen to the playlist by someone else. i listen to my own breath and as i watch the wet roofs across the street, another story comes up in my mind. another imagination. it's her again, the one flying now and then to the babies on the tower.
she woke up late. she felt something like regret, but she couldn't recognize if she felt pain for her memories or for the fact she couldn't remember them anymore. it was raining. she watched the raindrops hanging on the bar of the balcony. one by one in the row, the glittered and reflected the world around upside down and deformed.
she felt old.
she decided to go outside. the city attracted her like a siren singing a song about paradise. like a spider luring its prey to its web.
the street was wide and empty. people hid in the houses and were spending the boring saturday afternoon alone among their families. she knew they were there, behind the curtains, behind the walls. she was sorry for them, because there was no help.
she had no special destination, but suddenly she realized she found herself in the part of the city she wasn't ever before in. was she? it looked familiar. unlike the city at all. the street was narrow, lined with trees, bowing their branches heavy with the rain. it looked more like spring there than before in the city, some were still in bloom but most of them were already covered with leaves.
and the leaves whispered. she could hear them quite clearly. why not, she thought, the trees, of course, could talk. but these were some strange ones. they talked about her and her life. about her mistakes and losses.
she realized it was them calling her. they were the reason she left the cosy house and followed the unknown noise through the pouring rain. what did they want?
they reminded her everything she wanted to forget. she felt desperate and cried funky tears.
she knew about the things she made wrong. mostly there was no way to make them right. mostly there was no one wanting her apologies or her tears and shame. and no one ever wanted to enter her world, coloured and bright and covered with darkness and raging with storms. and the trees knew it too. they knew it all.
she kept walking on. suddenly the alley ended and there was a meadow. a fantasy meadow. a place, where the unicorns would meet around the rainbow. there were no unicorns, strangely. no rainbow. only the rain turned somehow... coloured. every single drop wore its special colour that looked absolutely unique and clear and so much not like the grey world she knew.
she looked at the rainbow-like pools on the grass. it looked as if the drops wouldn't mix, every drop stayed itself beside the others, every keeping its original colour. she enjoyed it. there were no more guilty whispers. no more fear. when she lifted her head, she saw the clouds as hued as the rain. she felt pleasure in her heart. she knew hurting people because of her hurt feelings was wrong. she knew running away from everything was no solution. yet she felt like that, always.
she felt like staying there forever. where, actually, she thought. but after a while she didn't like the place anymore. it was an instant inner peace. and she knew staying would be useless. she didn't belong there.
of course, she didn't belong anywhere. but "her" world knew her. it responded to her pain and loneliness, because it was painful and lonely. or maybe she just sensed, somewhere deep inside of her, that this coloured world wouldn't help her. not long enough. she was no person to be happy long enough.
she turned around, running away. the water splashed up to her knees and left coloured spots on her trousers. the trees back in the narrow alley stretched their branches towards her. she wasn't sure if they wanted to hurt her, but she didn't want to risk it. she didn't fit into their happiness plan, she refused it. by instinct, not with her mind. she desired to be happy as every other person.
her tears mixed up with the rain, suddenly grey and usual as always. no trees reaching for her anymore, no narrowing walls. the city she hated and loved embraced her with familiar sounds of empty trams on the tracks and bells in the churches and lonely footsteps. she felt empty and almost invisible but she felt herself. lost as always and soaked through. but forgiven.

2 comments:

BarborKa said...

ja nevim, jesli se to bude tykat toho blogu. Kazdopadne to bude muj pocit umocneny tím vyprávením. Chm. já myslím, ze setkávání s lidmi je jako na trhu v Zemi nezemi. Vsude kolem jsou na ruzne dlouhych provazcich plynove balonky, vznaseji se ve vzduchu, ale...oni to nejsou balonky, jsou to dárecky...nekteré v lesklém papíre a na dlouhé snurce...dlouho trva nez si je pritahnes a rozbalis...nektere jenom v hnedem papire, osklive s motouzkem a spousty jinych, zadny stejny. a ty si pritahujes ty, co upoutaji tvou pozornost. a pak dyz uz mas jistotu ze ti neuleti je zacnes rozbalovat. jenze to, co najdes uvnitr nijak nesouvisi se zevnejskem. stejne jako o vanocich si vetsinou vysledkem zklamana nebo lhostejna. chvili predstiras radost, protoze se to slusí. no...ale jednou se treba stane, ze se poseres stestim z toho, co tam najdes...ale taky se to stat nemusi...

duhkha said...

thank you very much 4 this nice history, girl, i think u've to begin to write a book and i've to begin to learn ur language to b able to understand the other histories!!! :) thank u!! see u!
Juan Ma