All the tasks are on hand with no doubt, about what pumps the next heartbeat and breath, and how a purpose may divide into opposite ways. Nevertheless, without any feels of guilt, almost all is left undone. C’est la vie! We make this living for, envying no criminals over there. Routine may be boring, but its total absence, the almost 24 hrs empty timetable must be an open book, time-free examination, to pass. In chains!
A passer-by humming in vain, tiptoe stepping over illusions of pain. Unnoticed, whispering and playing a bead in fingers, a remnant of a broken rosary. As having had woken up planning to go nowhere as usual. Getting up first to notice the power cut. Nothing unusual. Coffee for breakfast, then washed, dressed, and got out. It was not that early to find there was nobody in the street, not a car moving. It took him a few blocks of walking to realize there was a growing riddle. Except for him, there was no single creature, not even a dog or cat. The scarce green, the very few little trees, had been all toppled down, bare and dry. Wreck garbage of overseas, lines of parked cars, stores, offices…, all being closed, empty reflecting the same exclamatory! With some experience in challenging illusion, it hopped up to his mind, “is that real!” The valuable quote from ‘Beautiful Mind.’ If he ever had done except for in his manic episodes, long ago, he stopped shouting! Maybe because the echoes of his voice and reflected image of reactions to them were that negative. The fact that being one in billions is a mostly redeeming thing. There were many met and many yet possible to meet ashore. It was not the case this time! All is gone! Am I not!?
So, it just reached for late rehabilitation, starting with literacy. The shortest of breaths only aligned a past kept crowding echoes in the skull from the very beginning. “Don’t be greedy…” It was such a terrible accusation! Mere child, alone in the yard, deep at night, being caught by a yawning mother on her way back from the bathroom to bed, “What’s up!?”, “Thinking… about a lot of things.” Since then, and all he did was only proving, he is not! Thinking and trying to achieve the many at a time. Nothing happened, only a mixed-up diagnosis of bipolar disorder and thirty years of drug medication. A few days ago, it was the twelfth anniversary of the death of his father. Many decades before, he had chosen -boastingly- “To die laughing must be the most glorious of all glorious deaths.” ~Edgar Allan Poe, as his best quote ever, having had considered it a beauty exaggeration of Art, a top-secret obsession. Until that day, his father died. Eyewitnesses said –as if nothing! that he was laughing at the moment of his pass away. So, not only fictitious characters but also ordinary carpenters do.
You know!! A ‘She’, would rather be addressed instead of him. And even if by some arrangements he weighed something. There lies the hole under his shadow, foothold, and beyond at the end of the walk. No worse than the water, he will break into these stores to drink, feed, and hunt for batteries that power on his continual window shopping. Break into cars without keys browsing further exhibitions. Air may not erase the doubt that he has been exiled to a duplicate world, contrary to a promised other! What animates the body under lung-cylinders, then? Between that hole down under and the top of his shadow? It is crippling to claim by a word and avoid reflecting on its fountain. Whether the first to speak or to be spoken to. According to many, a mutation must be that pleasant fire, which keeps hope glowing.
Scale Fixing 