Chapter 3- Water

“If words can whisper a thousand lies

And dreams destroyed turned to ash

If blood covered a carcassed earth

And no one one

 but i lived to tell the tale….

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…we need to be different to get along.…its ultimately all an act of balance….so that we don’t end up like players on a football field where this one big dream of a football gets kicked at, tossed and passed on 

and god is the golee.

When I was thirteen I knew this boy..this huge bulk of a bully you’d generally run away from, except that…he had magic fingers.he definetly wasn’t brilliant…but somehow whatever he put down on paper seemed big.like he had accidentally stumbled upon something extraordinary that would burst from the seams of his head and he was too blind  to see. 

I was jealous.

Years later I found out what his secret was-it turns out he was blind ,

for the first ten years of his life.so he doesn’t remember the world as we see it…he created his own world in his head….imagine this child playing architect in that scale…..he’d never seen anything before  …he built his entire world around him .

his trees, his rivers, his sand and cities could be …anything.because he’d never seen any of these before. So that’s what he did he created his own little world in his head…and lived in it.

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Chapter 3

WATER...

I dont like crying ..its ridiculous and makes absolutely no sense.why must water come out of your eyes when your being ripped apart on the inside...

why cant we just breathe fire instead?

I've come a long way since that day at the train station and i've learnt so much..maybe a littl more than what i'm supposed to know. Everyday i wake up with a new peice of the puzzle ,like a alzimers paitent on reverse...recovering slowly to a deadly past he'd rather not know.

I scribbed something yesterday ..on those little brown tissues from the restaurant..the ones that are stuffed in my left coat pocket.I usually dig in to find new pictures everyday..some i remember but a few others have strokes i hav'nt seen before and i cant understand these ..as if my fingers moved with another's mind.

i woke up today with so much in a shady motel downtown.The papers were in espaniol..i'm in spain...

and within the rest of the day i need to figure out how and why.

I dont like the people here ..the women are coarse and the men half dead.The owner eyed me suspiciously as i walked out , he must have known i wouldn't return.

the streets look half dead...i wonder where in spain exactly i am?i walked faster as i noticed clouds slowly draping the sky grey...The rain disturbs me..it always has…all this water falling from the sky.how cold its touch feels…. i can see the people eying me from the streets,peeping at me from the windows high up...i stand out easily.

But I can ignore the eyes...the wide young ones ,the sly grey ones...even the yellow ones of a street cat dont bother me....infact i like his gaze the best..non-judgemental but observant.i wish this beast could talk.yet the scribbles are bothering me..i can feel the crumbled sheets as i dig into my pocket..i need to figure then out first.