Thinking about the Past (Part VI)

        Every day something happens to us. We either benefit, or lose. Today I wish all of us to require something pleasant and important, something that will change your life for the better.

CT

Thinking about the Past (Part VI)

 

VI.
The city is looking at me. I see that something is happening in its head.
I cannot tell what exactly, but I am sure it concerns my attitude to the city.
I cannot call it “he”, because I don’t want to so far.
I’m content with our friendship and I do not want to spoil our relationships.
Making the city too humanized, I will never be able to trust it.
This personal pronoun “he” is some kind of a taboo for me.
What if the city doesn’t share my feelings?
What if it will never look at me again with its eyes full of dressed diamonds?
What if … Ah… I see what has happened to the city.
It is feeling (even as I’m thinking about it at this very moment) my anxiety.
The power of my thoughts has been spread over the galaxy.
When the words were written on the paper (and even for the second time when typed), the city transformed them into some tiny dribbles.
The latter went far. They must have inhabited all the possible lacunas.
I could see how “smile” and “Cheshire” were floating over the table.
“Alice, I have stolen your Wonderland”, I thought for a moment.
The city has never smiled like a Cheshire cat.
It smiled lightly, only sometimes did it smile loudly and it was hilarious.
I could even hear the trembling of my front doors.
Sometimes, a vase fell on the floor and the pieces went down under it and made a necklace for the soil.
Under these circumstances, I could not possibly punish the city.
I could not think about it, when the city was nearby.
After all, it must feel the freedom in my world.
Even if I own the world, I will not create the rules.
They will appear on their own, when the city falls asleep…
 

Yours,
Sam

Thinking about the Past (Part V)

          Hi, everyone! I'm a terrible blogger, I know:) I can't manage my time... Hopefully, I've some inspiration to write. The latter always cheers me up.

CT

Thinking about the Past (Part V)

V.
I’ve been dreaming a long dream.
It was about the city as usual.
We laughed as if we had been small children who had been playing with balloons.
I threw the hearts into the air and the city was catching them.
Harlequin Valentine would envy me (let Neil forgive me for using it here).
I was Missy, but the city was truly remarkable with its claws bathed in blood.
It was melting like snow on its claws, but there were signs left after the process.
They were runes which then transformed into music notes.
I clearly saw that there were B and F.
They reminded me of the day I saw the city.
It was in front of the public, it was posing.
Every glance was nailed to it, as if all of them had expected the city to do an extraordinary thing and expose itself.
It was them when I bought it. B stands for “bought”. Can you guess what F stands for?
Fantasy? Fake? Freak? Failure or one of 6, 784 words that start with “f” according to Wolfram Alfa’s answer?
It is “fate”.
It is fate that I met the city there at that moment on that day.
Back to my dream: I didn't mean to mock the city, but I did it unconsciously.
It got offended though.
It took my heart in its paws and squeezed with the whole strength in front of all people.
Now, they were laughing and I was crying.
I screamed with pain and horror, but the city didn't react.
It continued to crush my heart like the grapes for wine.
It continued to revenge until it fell asleep...
 

Yours,

Sam

Thinking about the Past (Part IV)

            It has been such a difficult week for me, but, fortunately, the weekend has come, and I'm back with my writings. Here is what I've been up to this night:

CT

Thinking about the Past (Part IV)

 

IV.
I like that I can think of the city as a god or a goddess, more likely as a god.
I have never been able to understand why people worship gods,
Why they create temples and sacrifice places,
Why they describe their gods so solemnly and humbly,
Why they are ready to eat the soil to prove their devotion.
Now, as I met the city, I fully betided the essence of this fidelity.
It dawned upon me that I could do anything for the city, even if it were wrong in the things I love and care.
The things I like the most in the city are the language and style.
It has something Gothic in the appearance, even with the lionish fur.
Its eyes are hardly describable.
The only thing I can say about them is that they show me everything –
Everything that I want or dream.
They are somehow a bit disturbing, but not at all tiresome.
They make my neck bend down and the head immerse into the language realm.
Who knows where the city gets this magnetism.
It is just pouring out of its eyes,
With the inrush of a volcano eruption or hailing.
It killed hundreds of people I am sure. Will it kill me as well? I wonder.
The city cannot tell me now –
It is still asleep.
 

As always yours,
Sam