13.10.2002 | 3:04 p.m.
lying here with no one near, only you..

From the corner of my eye, I can see a girl huddled in a corner, knees against her breasts, rocking to and fro to achieve stability. She is frail and ethereal and lovely. I see her go from being in that almost foetal position to lying supine, staring at the gaunt ceiling. Her dream is being projected on an amorphous screen above her. Her body is entwined with another, symbiotically existing. Her face lights up momentarily and just then, the image fades away into the starkness.

My heart breaks for her. I want to hold her; I want to banish her insecurities to oblivion. I walk over,and kneel down beside her. She sits up and looks unblinkingly at me. I watch her tears fall languidly. I smooth her hair away from her face and as I do so, a surge of realisation passes through me. She is not beautiful at all. Her delicate features are a facade painstakingly constructed with blocks of simulacra, desperation acting as an adhesive.

I confront her and she refuses to admit her non-existence. Possessed by my trembling anger, her face and body contort, rearrange themselves and project their true selves. Her grace is obscured by layers of fat. Her silk-like hair now resembles a broom. She stands there clumsily, looking directly at me, her eyes expressionless. I sigh and my breath frosts below her lower lip.

deja vu? | jamais vu?