Becoming a little bit of everyone when we close our eyes.
How do you know about those bridges and which steps to take
and which to leave aside?
I hear your voice in my head, it says, don’t be scared. I am
not scared, I am just precautious. Maybe because I feel responsible. Maybe
because I have been here before and know the crossroads that turn into alleys
with dead ends. The sidewalk is overgrown with weeds of expectations. I have
adopted the habit of walking on the road. Right in the middle. Where the breeze
of both directions causes friction on my skin. I like this friction. It makes
me feel alive. Strangers passing by. Sometimes I catch the glimpse of a
stranger’s eyes. A canvas of reflections. My own depth determines how far I walk
inside. I grow deeper with time. I lay out a thread and create my own labyrinth
over a layer of labyrinths over a layer.
I forget how I got inside, beginning and end merge into
one single point. Awareness without time.
