I remember I opened my eyes and I was already running atop a building, stepping on everything I knew was once gray. Behind me I saw flowing curtains by the open window. There was no one left in the bedroom. Ahead there were roofs and chimneys surrounded by smoke, and I knew, I was not alone.
The big blue bird kept on flying above me, cutting the cloudy skies with his bright wings. I'm not sure anymore whether I was the one following him or was the opposite to be true. All there was to be felt was the cold air and the unescapable loneliness inside. No running could ever be enough... I did not know where to go!
A storm started; furious raindrops licking my undressed body when I say green door unlocked. Spiral stairs took me down, and I reached a room where it was finally possible to see the wet streets through big dusty windows. By the wooden floor, a tiny music box. It could not be opened, not by me at least. The moment I tried to pick it up, a terrible painful sound was heard.
Outside was the bird still, staring at me. Maybe he's been by my back all my life, but that's nothing but a delusive thought. I don't know when I was born. Was I born at all? Sometimes, when the bird is not around, I catch myself wondering if all the gray around me really exists. If it doesn't, well, then I do not exist either.
There was that time when I tried to open a different door. It must have been red one day, I guess. Inside there was nothing but an old mirror, in which I felt I saw the eyes of a young man. It was not possible to me to understand his look or to see what he was looking at. I didn't had the time, for the bird came to me and took me out. I felt pain, I felt death upon my shoulders while his claws were on me.
The bird always comes back.
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário