A glance speaks so many worlds. A gesture, a movement.
A man is walking just ahead of me. The city is shimmering below us in the sunlight. I read his character as he walks. The awkwardness of his hips, the visible hairline on his neck, the emphasis on his waist. He’s an anxious person, vulnerable, fretful and affectionate. Long-legged.
Description is my anchor. The sight of the sun is my security.
I hear a voice singing, like a song on a radio going on and on, like tuning in to a telephone conversation.
– And I wanted to stay but I had to go. I didn’t have a choice. They were leaving and I had to go with them. It all befell me. I wasn’t preparing myself for the change. It was a fait accompli. We were going. They already had all their reasons worked out. It was arbitrary and meaningless to me, you know, children. My life didn’t lead anywhere, it was confined to that place. The place was my life. I didn’t know that life continued or even existed in other places too. Like falling off the edge of the map. And so different, so arbitrarily different – why walk and talk differently? I couldn’t see the reason for it. Like suddenly having to act a part in some strange play for no reason. I kept thinking, why don’t we just get back to normal again. This charade seemed unnecessary. It was a barrier to spontaneity, I felt frozen, I couldn’t move my facial muscles to speak, or smile. I wanted to be invisible. I was invisible to some people or quaint. I got used to it.
Every time you go away you take a piece of me with you.
The air, the imperceptible differences. The city goes through a colour change.
I descend through the glass houses of tropical flowers. The most beautiful approach to the city. Also the most formal one, used for visitors to the city. There are foreigners everywhere.
I remember the nights, waking in a cold sweat. Realization tumbling upon realization. When the whole world seemed cold and dark. And these sudden facts like lines of light in the darkness. Light as in sharp not as in
sunny. Our lives being renovated by forces outside our control. Momentous and inexorable events crashing down around us.
This city loves me. Its changes reflect my moods. The sunset sweeps across the glass walls as I lower my eyes and turn inside for the evening.
He looks up at me before he sleeps. He places a coin on each of his eyes and one on the centre of his forehead. He’s closed his eyes.