Nossa
07-19-2008, 03:59 PM
I wrote this out of boredom about a week ago. I got it posted on my blog. Hope you like it :D
IT WAS a gloomy day. There were sun rays every now and then, but mostly thick clouds, so thick that you can almost feel the weight of the water about to drop to earth. But nothing stopped the city from moving. People were in the streets as usual, as sharp and as regular as they always are. Despite the fact that this was possibly the first cloudy day in three months of hot summer, and although they, in the humid thirsty summer days, prayed for a shade of grey that can soak up the sun rays even a little bit. She sat with a hot cup of tea in her hands, watching the horizon blocked by the far reaching buildings. She longed for something that she couldn't figure out; she felt a heavy sigh in her breast and within her ribs, a sigh that she couldn't get out into the void. She turned on some music, and started to undress. She got into the shower, and felt relaxed by the steam of the hot water. As she was getting dressed for work, she still felt that sigh and a certain weight lying on her chest. She didn't give it that much thought, though, as she made her way to the street. She had a day of work ahead of her, and nothing should distract her from that. However, she couldn't help but look up at the cloudy sky. It was an unusual summer day in the city. No burning sun and no hot breeze. Just a chilly one. She made her way to the subway, still feeling the heaviness on her chest. She sat there, looking at the people. They were the same people, as everyday, but somehow looked different today. They looked clearer somehow. She could almost see through them. She sat there, watching and observing. She didn't really observe or watch something in particular, but a general view of the people. She didn't think of something in particular, but general thoughts and ideas. She wondered where each of them was going, what they do for living and if they had any problems. She found herself wondering if any of them was feeling that sigh she felt. She couldn't ask anyone about it, for it felt vague. She had a feeling of being transparent. It made her absorb and grasp more about the world than she wanted or needed. It was tiring. When she arrived at her working place, she felt a need to look at everyone in the office, as if she was seeing them anew. Did they change? Impossible. It's probably her, she thought. It's that weight she's carrying on her chest and even her shoulders. She looked out the window of her office, and felt kind of connected to the heavy clouds of the sky. She was probably the only person who was looking out of the window and into the sky. She as the only one wondering about these sublime newcomers of the town. But then again she thought, maybe everyone did look but she just didn't see them.
WHEN SHE finished work and went home, she stayed for about an hour in the tub. She turned on some Chopin and just stayed there. She thought that maybe if she took a long warm bath, she would finally shake off that feeling she had all day. This sigh and that clinch in her chest. Neither did Chopin nor the warm water or even the little wine glass do anything. She stepped out of the tub and tucked herself into the bed. It was a chilly night, and all the windows were closed. She stayed in bed for another hour, or was it two hours? She couldn't tell. She didn't know when she finally slept. She just hugged her pillow and slept. Later in that night she thought she heard Chopin still playing. She didn't mind though, she smiled as the Nocturne went on. She was an expert on classical music, but she couldn't figure out which piece that was. She just smiled and enjoyed the sound of the piano. She had a sweet and almost intoxicating feeling of being a little girl again, sitting in bed, with her mother brushing her hair, one hundred strokes before she goes to sleep. That was the tradition. She could feel her mother's voice and her low laughter, as she sang her before she went to sleep. Her smile widened. Before she slept again she recalled a picture. A little girl riding a white graceful horse. That wasn't her, she thought, but it felt familiar somehow. She smiled once more, and pulled the blanket up to her neck and slept again. The last thing that went through her mind before she closed her eyes was that the sigh and the heaviness were gone. She felt light again. And out of the closed window and into the dark sky, she could see the sparkling of a star.
THE NEXT morning the sun was shinning again. Seemed that people hardly noticed it was gone the day before. And when they found her in her bed, cold and blue, they hardly noticed the big smile on her face. They couldn't see the sigh evaporate into the air. They wanted to bring her back. But for what? She amazingly kept holding on to the blanket, waiting for her mother to finish the hundred strokes. And for Chopin to finally take his bow.
IT WAS a gloomy day. There were sun rays every now and then, but mostly thick clouds, so thick that you can almost feel the weight of the water about to drop to earth. But nothing stopped the city from moving. People were in the streets as usual, as sharp and as regular as they always are. Despite the fact that this was possibly the first cloudy day in three months of hot summer, and although they, in the humid thirsty summer days, prayed for a shade of grey that can soak up the sun rays even a little bit. She sat with a hot cup of tea in her hands, watching the horizon blocked by the far reaching buildings. She longed for something that she couldn't figure out; she felt a heavy sigh in her breast and within her ribs, a sigh that she couldn't get out into the void. She turned on some music, and started to undress. She got into the shower, and felt relaxed by the steam of the hot water. As she was getting dressed for work, she still felt that sigh and a certain weight lying on her chest. She didn't give it that much thought, though, as she made her way to the street. She had a day of work ahead of her, and nothing should distract her from that. However, she couldn't help but look up at the cloudy sky. It was an unusual summer day in the city. No burning sun and no hot breeze. Just a chilly one. She made her way to the subway, still feeling the heaviness on her chest. She sat there, looking at the people. They were the same people, as everyday, but somehow looked different today. They looked clearer somehow. She could almost see through them. She sat there, watching and observing. She didn't really observe or watch something in particular, but a general view of the people. She didn't think of something in particular, but general thoughts and ideas. She wondered where each of them was going, what they do for living and if they had any problems. She found herself wondering if any of them was feeling that sigh she felt. She couldn't ask anyone about it, for it felt vague. She had a feeling of being transparent. It made her absorb and grasp more about the world than she wanted or needed. It was tiring. When she arrived at her working place, she felt a need to look at everyone in the office, as if she was seeing them anew. Did they change? Impossible. It's probably her, she thought. It's that weight she's carrying on her chest and even her shoulders. She looked out the window of her office, and felt kind of connected to the heavy clouds of the sky. She was probably the only person who was looking out of the window and into the sky. She as the only one wondering about these sublime newcomers of the town. But then again she thought, maybe everyone did look but she just didn't see them.
WHEN SHE finished work and went home, she stayed for about an hour in the tub. She turned on some Chopin and just stayed there. She thought that maybe if she took a long warm bath, she would finally shake off that feeling she had all day. This sigh and that clinch in her chest. Neither did Chopin nor the warm water or even the little wine glass do anything. She stepped out of the tub and tucked herself into the bed. It was a chilly night, and all the windows were closed. She stayed in bed for another hour, or was it two hours? She couldn't tell. She didn't know when she finally slept. She just hugged her pillow and slept. Later in that night she thought she heard Chopin still playing. She didn't mind though, she smiled as the Nocturne went on. She was an expert on classical music, but she couldn't figure out which piece that was. She just smiled and enjoyed the sound of the piano. She had a sweet and almost intoxicating feeling of being a little girl again, sitting in bed, with her mother brushing her hair, one hundred strokes before she goes to sleep. That was the tradition. She could feel her mother's voice and her low laughter, as she sang her before she went to sleep. Her smile widened. Before she slept again she recalled a picture. A little girl riding a white graceful horse. That wasn't her, she thought, but it felt familiar somehow. She smiled once more, and pulled the blanket up to her neck and slept again. The last thing that went through her mind before she closed her eyes was that the sigh and the heaviness were gone. She felt light again. And out of the closed window and into the dark sky, she could see the sparkling of a star.
THE NEXT morning the sun was shinning again. Seemed that people hardly noticed it was gone the day before. And when they found her in her bed, cold and blue, they hardly noticed the big smile on her face. They couldn't see the sigh evaporate into the air. They wanted to bring her back. But for what? She amazingly kept holding on to the blanket, waiting for her mother to finish the hundred strokes. And for Chopin to finally take his bow.