Nota Autorului: Acest text a fost scris cu dedicatie acum aproape 2 ani pentru Emma. L-am pus pe blog ca amintire.
She sits crouched in the corner of a room. She opens her eyes and so it starts, even though the eye lashes cover her brown irises. She stands up and walks forwards, sentenced to move although so many things could bring her down. She does not believe it, but still she goes on, her mind holding secrets no other could decipher.
When have they been printed in her brain?
The tattooed symbols burn her from time to time, but she does not complain, writhing inside a cube, invisible to the world, an inheritance of endurance and pain. As she skims through the library books she finds a small one, a black one and a silver one. She lies down and touches the line. She reads and worlds erupt.
They talk about an end, they talk about life and the hiding behind power and of sacrificing one’s self for the ones she cares about. She holds pillars to temples she does not know, she sits on a rock above molten rocks and bodies and souls in flames.
In her room there is a screen. From somewhere behind her the images are projected on the translucid fabric she does not need to see. A story about promiscuous empires she had lived in, about decadence and implosion. She does not believe there could be something behind the gigantic screen. Sometimes she breaks it and then, in the moment before fright she builds it back, placing each and every piece in place with her shivering hands. She sometimes cuts herself with the shards… but every time, every single time she fails to see the mirror behind the silver frame of the screen.
She starts to run. And so she runs through impressions and deceived hearts ignoring the spikes beneath her feet. She runs to the arms held open for ages. Her eyes are always open. Still she sees more than she thinks possible. And if she tries to blink, she falls through the covers of her bed.
Cold whispers wait for her on the road but she sees the stars above from time to time. They make her feel safe and so she carries on.
Searching for the way home.
