So I flicked the page1, tried to turn it2. In an instant3 I found myself looking ata loose page4. How come?5 Wind blew6, a gale7, a heartwarming8 gust of wind
scattered9 the story all over the city10. The pages flew11 away. I sat down12 with
an empty box13 of a book. The withered14 leaves dripped15 down from the sky16.
I saw them sail down the drainage rail.
1 I saw the girl, standing on a page. She was there willingly and she waved at me. Made
me smile, in fact. I haven’t smiled in a long time.
2 There was a lot of desolation. Really an alienating experience. I mean, it was all loose
pages, how are you supposed to read this? It felt wrong somehow.
3 Those joyous hours wasted! Those unharmed moments of pure bliss!
4 It was all quite well. Not necessarily well-adjusted, but then again, who really is?
5 The unwary reader can really stumble on those large lumps of ligatures. Typographic
marks, diacritics, all those lettery things that make no sense.
6 Well, not really. I think I started distributing this thing a long time ago.
The digital age, social media, fragmentation of one’s self? Awareness of no
boundaries? The sweet bliss of ignorance.
7 There are fragments there, believe me. It’s all there is, and she’s lost there..
8 The writer seems to feel somewhat gushing..
9 It really takes no time or place to tell a story. It’s all unbound. Even your memory
works in non-linear ways to provide you with all the fun of not remembering correctly!
10 This is where it happened, the drama. The unwittingly humble beginnings of a milieu.
11 It looked like a flock of birds taking off simultaneously. Bursting into the air, in tears.
I saw uncoupled histories of people mingling as they flew. I was blown away (and yes,
that pun was intentional).
12 The bench was damp, not incredibly pleasant to sit on, if you don’t mind me saying.
13 It was like opening a board game box. This time there were only instructions inside. I
wish I had had instructions.
14 This happens in autumn so ”withered” was chosen. Other possibilities included, but
were not limited, to: ”dead”, ”sullen” and ”morose”.
15 It actually looks quite like paint dripping from trees. Those leaves, I mean. All the colours, wet and slimy.
16 The sky was clear like it seldom is in autumn. Somehow peculiar, I saw a bird land before me.