NO4 “THE CARCASS OF HISTORY”

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The air is sharp tonight. I am walking on pavement. I jog in reverse. There are lights and there are voices. There are bodies and there are languages. They brush against me as I run. I brush them off, I keep running.

There was a grocery store on this corner before. The owner would talk of his children and family down south. He used to say that tension was growing down there. Tension will never reach this space. Tonight his silhouette is printed in shadow. I keep running.

I pass by a body on the corner. A speech and a gaze are directed at me. I close my eyes and let the sound envelope my mind. Nothing. I hear spaces and tones of a voice. I move on.

Jane’s and my conversations became consequently more and more tedious. From gradients of opinions we slowly slid into indecision. Into a decision that was always hungry and never content. Or was it too content and not hungry enough? The last thing Jane said to me – There is nothing I can say that will ever mirror your thought. That was when we gave up on language. The sound of her mouth-rhythms are slowly fading in my memory.

I pick up speed. I run through a street light.

There is not a right way to cut bread. There are endless difficulties where crumbs are concerned. I should have toasted it darker. I can never get it to look the same way as the day before. It drives me crazy.

Nothing will happen anymore so it is impossible to decide anything.

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