Discover more from It All Burned and Was Light
Something, Anything, but Not Nothing.
Henceforth, if I have nothing to do, I shall do nothing.
It is harder than I thought. I sit tentatively for a little while. Trickle, trickle. One second drops, then another second, then another second. Time begins to pool around me. The seconds are congealing and are forming a circle. It looks shimmery and grey. I dip my toe in it. It is not cool and not warm. I can see my swaying reflection in it. The circle begins to whirl, first almost imperceptibly, like I wouldn’t notice. Then it speeds up slightly. Round and round, it goes. My ankle is submerged now. It is teasing, turning. I want to splash in it but that is not the deal I have made. I have to sit quietly and not do anything. Let it do what it does. I don’t care. I entwine my fingers of one hand into another and rest my chin on the mesh of fingers. There is the sun; there is the old rusty building with its paint coming off; there is the cat rustling by; there is the drying rack with clothes hanging on its steel bars; there is the security guard dozing off at the entrance gate of the colony; there is the lizard that lives behind the shoebox; there is the… there is..
Time is still oozing around me. Where is it coming from? I am now waist deep in it. It is revolving so fast now that concentric circles form around me like yawning mouths. A mouth inside a mouth inside a mouth. I am neck deep now. I can swim in it. It is there. It is everywhere. But I am supposed to not do anything. My insides are about to bounce like a coil compressed to its limit. It is unbearable now to sit idle.
I hear my head scream: something, anything, but not nothing.