I walk to the car and turn back, look at the white and blue house, the old-fashioned carpenteries atop the window. I like this old-fashion house.
I get in the car and close the door. Sitting in, I look into the rear view mirror; the whole street behind me is stationary; in front of me the sun is rising from behind the buildings. All is still quite. And I am leaving the house.
I picture my A, my sunny son, breathing sweetly in his dream, calm, his face is all wide, his long black eyelashes protecting his eyes so nurturingly.
And I am leaving the house.
I think about calling my brother. I propose to me calling Sh.K. She had been thinking about calling me yesterday but thought I was at work, she emailed me instead. Pass. Radio on. Radio off. Take the iPad out, leave it there.
I find that I have been driving for a long time, more than half of my usual morning rides, and I don't remember it all. Auto pilot.
Radio on:
"Take me away, a secret place
A sweet escape, take me away
Take me away to better days
Take me away, a hiding place
There's a place that I go that nobody knows
Where the rivers flow and I call it home
And there's no more lies in the darkness there's light
And nobody cries, there's only butterflies"
چه باحال! داشتم دیروز فکر میکردم که سراغ نوشتهات که میام نظرم رو بنویسم، و دقیقا توی همین متنت اسمم رو آوردی. به این میگن
ReplyDeleteTelepathy!
That's because Midnight really lives Shab:) boos
ReplyDelete