04.08.2002 | 12:18 a.m.
how to disappear completely.

I am curled up on the large black chair in the living room staring out at the verdant landscape punctuated by concrete. A light drizzle obliges the trees to move ever so slightly. I can see two pigeons on the ledge of the opposite building shaking water off their feathers. Their wings remind me of rainbow petrol puddles, the kind that elicit delighted squeals from little children. Below the ledge is a window throttled by a fancy black grill. A little girl sits on the sill, her tiny legs dangling through the iron bars. Her mother holds her with one hand and with the other, points upwards. Towards the birds? The silver sky? Someone dancing on the terrace of my building? Her mouth is slightly open, her eyes glazed and I find myself wishing I was her age again. Sadness swells like a pregnant wave and crashes against the jagged edge of my throat. The silence is much too distracting and my latest musical obsession,"Is he Fair" begins to play like a carousel tune in my head. Do they sing, do they cry,do they love, do they survive like me? Why do we have to tell them? Have their stories not been told? . Round and round riding on golden-haired horses, soporific like only regression can be.

The fan in the room has been switched off as the maid sweeps the floor. The debris of my daydream forms concentric circles that are being methodically demolished by a broom. I sink deeper into the chair, sitting in foetal position. The leather bites my skin and my body begins to bleed perspiration. The heat from the laptop seeps into my thighs and I writhe out of shape like a proud Dali painting. Once again I am alone in the room. The maid has forgotten to switch the fan back on. Beads of exertion drop from my forehead and form pretty patterns on the furniture. I am melting. Melting, dripping, dissolving. Into the stillness and stagnation. And then I'm gone.

deja vu? | jamais vu?