31-1-2012.
"But I heard sounds today. I was very keen to hear them to avoid my own silence. Jumps, bumps, rickety rattles were speaking volumes to me and I heard every word. The sonorous journey opened up sight after sight, colour after colour, sound after sound, as we made our way through infinite beings, hard at work and hard not at work.
I could've let go. I could've stopped clutching at the seat so that I would have fallen. And I could see myself falling to the floor of the bus with a quiet thud that wouldn't sound quite as loud amidst the noisy traffic. And I would've rolled onto the floor and onto the grey stairs that awaited me solemnly beneath the gaping hole in place of where the door should've been. And in such a pitiful state of no-doorness, I would've landed in the dust, and I would have coughed and spurted and I would have been bewildered for a while. Or a minute, or an hour, or maybe two. But I would've eventually controlled my tears and I would've brushed off the dust and wandered.
Wandered. I would've, could've wandered in those broken down, uproarious streets and I could've joined the ranks of the tea-selling, car-fixing, busy-looking people walking right and left and all around among crowded colours that were blatantly plain in all their dustiness; like someone dimmed down the rainbow. And I would've been part of that picture that no one took and I would have, could have melted into a beautiful scene that no one painted."
"But I heard sounds today. I was very keen to hear them to avoid my own silence. Jumps, bumps, rickety rattles were speaking volumes to me and I heard every word. The sonorous journey opened up sight after sight, colour after colour, sound after sound, as we made our way through infinite beings, hard at work and hard not at work.
I could've let go. I could've stopped clutching at the seat so that I would have fallen. And I could see myself falling to the floor of the bus with a quiet thud that wouldn't sound quite as loud amidst the noisy traffic. And I would've rolled onto the floor and onto the grey stairs that awaited me solemnly beneath the gaping hole in place of where the door should've been. And in such a pitiful state of no-doorness, I would've landed in the dust, and I would have coughed and spurted and I would have been bewildered for a while. Or a minute, or an hour, or maybe two. But I would've eventually controlled my tears and I would've brushed off the dust and wandered.
Wandered. I would've, could've wandered in those broken down, uproarious streets and I could've joined the ranks of the tea-selling, car-fixing, busy-looking people walking right and left and all around among crowded colours that were blatantly plain in all their dustiness; like someone dimmed down the rainbow. And I would've been part of that picture that no one took and I would have, could have melted into a beautiful scene that no one painted."
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