The loft
Ariza | 24 July 2006, 6:58pm
Like every house there was a loft in this house too. I got in because she asked me to go look there. I went up on my hands and settled between two old boxes and a steel drum. There was a whole house up there and I looked at a life in them. It was the life from many years, a life that she had decided to lock up and keep away. I looked at the utensils, the books, the old chairs, the beddings and the old cassessets. There were magazines from sometime I had never lived through and there were photographs of people I remembered in leathery old skins. My pants raked up the dust and I felt it suffocating. Suddenly I saw a file full of papers and decided to look inside. There were scribblings of someone intelligent and ideas that ran out of patience. She saw me looking at it and she asked me to quit it. She told me I got no business in those papers. I didnt care. The old photographs showed her young and smiling. The eye-liner had worn away because her eyes watered when she laughed. She still had that bottomless laughter but in that photograph it was without the darkness of experience. I knew that she had only begun to learn then. I saw her seated amongst the ruins of some temple looking as beautiful as the night. She sat looking at me, I knew it, but it was on the loft and I had to get down to her.
Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: Counting Crows
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