The Rain in Spain falls mainly in . . . Korea!
It's odd to have so much time to myself. So much time with nothing I really should do. I come home on the weekend and really, if I wanted to, I could spend it all alone. Hours of silence - moving from room to room - speaking a word to no one.
I feel somehow separate, separated, and I'm nut sure whether it's a feeling I like or dislike. I think I could get used to it. Slowly withdraw, further and further. I know that would be a bad thing. For hours I read and I write, then I read, then write. Ocasionally when I need to hear words I put in a movie and falsely, the silence emanating from my apartment is broken. . . I can use music. But it is silence too, like the whirr of the air conditioner or the drone of cars sloshing by, one after another, on the pavement below my window.
The rain creates a curtain. Closing us in if we choose to let it.
This city, like all the others, the same in its differentness. The rain covers, coating the world in sheets - that rarely sparkle. Streams flow - carrying the acid we createby our constant movement, constant production, and then release into the air - down across the concrete and into our soil. Into our food. Into our blood.
A sound in the silence has changed. I pull open the window. The rain has stopped. The haze is lifted. I see blue sky, fluffy clouds. The first time in days.
I feel somehow separate, separated, and I'm nut sure whether it's a feeling I like or dislike. I think I could get used to it. Slowly withdraw, further and further. I know that would be a bad thing. For hours I read and I write, then I read, then write. Ocasionally when I need to hear words I put in a movie and falsely, the silence emanating from my apartment is broken. . . I can use music. But it is silence too, like the whirr of the air conditioner or the drone of cars sloshing by, one after another, on the pavement below my window.
The rain creates a curtain. Closing us in if we choose to let it.
This city, like all the others, the same in its differentness. The rain covers, coating the world in sheets - that rarely sparkle. Streams flow - carrying the acid we createby our constant movement, constant production, and then release into the air - down across the concrete and into our soil. Into our food. Into our blood.
A sound in the silence has changed. I pull open the window. The rain has stopped. The haze is lifted. I see blue sky, fluffy clouds. The first time in days.
posted by Charles at 2:28 AM
1 Comments:
Hey Charlene,
I know what you mean. City after City, they all have the same feelings. Each one carries their only silences, their own cries and hurts. Today feels like one of those days.
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