What is not here.
The quiet despair, the hopelessness. The end of a rope that does not do justice, it’s all here. All in here. The very dark secrets that seem so natural, that live and breathe like you and me, it’s all here. The sense of calm, limitation, tranquility that you insist on embracing, it’s all here.
Do you know what is not here? Me. I’ve been gone for the past years, for the last days, for the fading hour. I have been long gone and dead like a bird who got tired to scream while everyone around me stared and commented ‘oh, what a beautiful singing bird you got here’! I’ve been dead.
