eigengrau
“There’s a bark in my throat, a gentle howl. I try to expel it but man-dog I know that I’m dying and I will never be heard. Now I’m a spirit. I’m free and fly over my miserable being, my abandonment, the nothing that contains me and that made me on Earth.”
The girl's right heel was shredded. A dark abrasion had bled through her mustard-colored socks. She inhaled and exhaled into the pain throbbing in each toe. Inhale, and she felt expansive. Exhale, and she felt empty. Vacancy was never a choice. She counted lovers like that dark wound on her leg- courting pain as if it were a wolf that could be brushed into a dog.
Why do so many writers write about God?
The girl had discovered what was eternal here, in the world where cars honked and birds shat on the roof. She woke up every morning to the light chatter in the bird trees. Red leaves had coated the stairs. It was fall, and she lacked the feathers to keep warm. She’d taken up running at the Spree, and her fingertips were always cold in the leather gloves.
God was here, in the body. The girl didn’t need to discuss the origin of someone Greater Than with the poets who frequented the small cafe that served chocolate banana bread. The slices were large as a loaf for two euros. The girl went every midday and ordered a latte and asked for the slice with the most walnuts. She’d sit with her legs crossed on the leather sofa., her shoes kicked to the corner.
The inversion was the most interesting aspect of the world- those sidelong glances that contained so much more than they revealed. Seduction was a trick the girl could not be bothered with; she requested her desire. It filled her up and broke to the surface like the blisters on her feet. She poked the swollen skin once and felt it burst beneath the needle. The wound took much longer to heal because of her picking.
She left people to their own devices after that. Running was her only recourse.
What do you do in the morning? She wanted to ask every person who avoided eye contact. There were a lot of them. The eyes were the entry point to the spirit. Most people suffered the dark matter, though not the girl. She used wands of insence to protect her energy and carried a small pink box of sticks with a lighter when she left the house. Where to go shopping was the only question on her mind when she opened her eyes. How to fill that unrequited desire that swelled like a sourdough loaf on the countertop?
Pie; that was what she wanted today, a heavy slice of strawberry rhubarb pie and to sit outside the cafe in Gaston with a cup of kombucha. What a wish to make! And here the girl was, on the other side of the world, on a wooden stool, wearing gold rings and a mouthful of laughter.
Who will play with me?
This is the only question worth asking. The revelation arrived as a pack of small white pups that followed the girl from Morocco to Germany. Their pale fur was flecked with gold spots. Each mark was a symbol of the girl's lust for life. She wanted everything for herself- she would share it with no one!
How vulnerable do you make yourself to your partner?
Clara’s question on the voice memo. Everyone was full of inquiry, and no one knew how to answer. The resolution was not the point, though it was fun to joust over what could be. The girl believed that duty suppressed desire and spoke to no one of the secrets of her soul. It’s why the dogs followed her; she whispered to them in a language only the Dogs understand.
The antithesis was, of course, that she was in love and didn’t want to admit it.
Photo source.
