The Face of True Emotion

It was a face, a face of the feeling, an emotion that exudes from the rest of the body in slow motion, deceptive as a hologram, and convincing as an incorrigible fact. The face was placid as the whites in rebellious piece of art, but evasive as the skipped words of a love song. Defied, denied, thrown away and then picked up. Caressed, embraced, and with a mask then covered up.

There was an unidentified, unfamiliar, exceptionally rare power, a magic abiding beneath the mask. The mystery, an insatiable black hole as it seemed, collided with the brightest comet. Another face, the one sure of itself went right through the mask, crashed into the face, and with a flicker in the top left corner of its left eye pulled the eyelids closed.

As the eyes opened, the mask disappeared. It’s envied, the face of emotion, that particular deceptive, convincing one. What has remained is the power, the now identified, familiar, still rare power, the magical face, the face of true emotion, the face of true feeling.

Her second 'first encounter' with confusion : A scene from 'Miracles'

As the day broke, she imitated the smile effortlessly as her dream wryly smiled at her memory. The memory that had conceived the dream last night, and had rolled the ball too far to return, was not ever to fade away. Her mind, the cradle for both, the dream and the memory,  was in fact a little too preoccupied to be called awake or even to fall back asleep.

Not just preoccupied. Entangled, as a matter of fact, in a wreath of thoughts and feelings. Thoughts, that were transparent, some invisible and others impenetrable. Feelings, that were vivid, some incomprehensible and others inexplicable.

Her ears could still hear a melody, a euphony rather, having more words than music. Like the shell that carries along with it the sound of ocean, the air had held on to their words. Everything in that room ricocheted one or two words towards every other thing. Everything fell in place, in time, in order. She could virtually touch the dominoes falling around her to complete the mosaic, her life.

The thought scared her a little. A world beyond her own but she was there, a momentary stay where she never wanted to be, and an unforgettable memory that was once forgotten tantalized her. She had been unknowingly dwelling on the things, that she was convinced could never be.

Leaving would be easy, but then she never had a knack for the easy things. Staying would be just as hard, but would it be worth the effort? It was her first encounter with what others recognize as ‘confusion’, for the second time.

Alix and Alex: Creating Coincidence

[The northwest corner of Schmagen library echoed with their whispers. Alix got up from across the table in a rush, walked over swiftly, but sat next to Alex rather limply.]
Alix: “Listen close. What I’m about to tell you may not be absolutely candid, but as of now, as I speak it is going to burn the very last cell in my body.”
Alex: “One of the few skills that I excel at- listening ‘coz you see… I know when to stop talking. You go now.”
Alix: “Yeah, you’re gonna have to be just a little more serious this time.”
Alex: “Consider it done. Go on.”
Alix: “I haven’t been myself for a past few months. You see, I’ve been trying to discover, define who I am. But all I seem to be doing is losing bits of myself, transcending them from perceptible to more self conscious with every attempt.”
Alex (interrupting her): “Since when are you so fond of defining things… and yourself? “
Alix: “I’m not a sound believer of defining things, but for this once I feel like this is the only way even to fumble through. And moreover it’s not about ‘defining’ defining, it’s…”
Alex (interrupting her): “May I dare ask the context of the vaguely candid confession of yours?”
Alix:” It’s more about the creating firm projections, the way you, and others see me. That, I believe, is not to be played around with, not in numbers far beyond comprehension. It’s beginning to scare me.”
Alex: “So it’s more like experiencing something for the first time over and over again.”
Alix: “Yeah, sometimes. All I know that even if I can or cannot change someone else’s perception, I myself should be aware of who I am.”
Alex: “Do you believe in coincidences?”
Alix: “Are you even listening to me? What does that have to do with this… Well! Yeah maybe I do.”
Alex: “Yes, and that in itself is a coincidence. So anyway, what I’m trying to say is that there are so many things around you happening in a breath, that most of them go unnoticed. But only those that are of interest to you get labeled as ‘coincidence’.”
Alix: “Yeah, okay, okay! But how is that even remotely related right now?”
Alex: “Well! You are like that breath. Only the parts that are of interest to others will get labeled. They’ll never be able to see what lies inside. The violet beneath the blue, the ghost behind the curtain, the eyes in the twilight, they all go unnoticed.
Alix: “Are you suggesting me to give this up then?”
Alex: “No. I’m suggesting you to confront them, the decisions that you made against yourself, and the choices that you made under the impression of self defiance. Betray the search for reasons, befriend the alibi.”
Alix: “As powerful as it sounds, I’m not sure if it makes much sense.”
Alex: “Let the moment pass… It’ll make sense.”
Alix: “Uh huh. Then perhaps I’d be able to label call all this a coincidence.”
[The northwest corner of Schmagen library, with only two of the six seats occupied, was quiet, reminding them of just what they both had grown to be for each other.]

The Fall

When I was finally standing on the moon’s smoothest surface, its gravity started to disappear.  And somewhere in between my conscience was entangled in the persuasion of a star that for sure, looked closer from up there. I walked around the entire equator several times with the night sky in my eyes and the star in my mind.

Never did I feel the need for oxygen, ‘coz every time I looked up, the star took my breath away anyway. Never did I want anyone to talk to, ‘coz then I would have to listen to what they had to say. Never did I want anything more than nothing, ‘coz everything I needed was in front of my eyes.  I wasn’t afraid if I would fall down, ‘coz then, maybe I’d be another star in the skies. Never did I try not to get lost, ‘coz I knew that I didn’t want to be found by anyone but the star.

I’m hanging from a faint mnemonic vapor trail of the fall. Now that the gravity has entirely disappeared, the moon’s leisurely falling down on earth, the vision’s blurred. The star’s brightness resides inside of me, more intense than anything, inspiring me to stay far from who I thought I was, closer to who I really am. But a splinter of stardust also lies in me. I can simply dwell into reality and let go of it. If I do, I can land safely for it is the only weight I carry.

"weapon of choice- words" or "words of choice- weapons"

Things that I say or things that you listen?
Things that matter or the things that still matter?
Overtaken sarcasm or undertaken euphemism?
Articulated tranquility or incoherent chatter?

Who think they know or who you think know you?
Senseless sensitivity or sensitive nonsense?
Creative magic or magical creation?
Innocent stupidity or stupid innocence?