The smell of stale coffee and cheap cigarettes filled my nostrils. Where am I? My lungs swelled up with the taste of bitterness. A gentle breeze swept through the streets and I filled myself with the fresh uncontaminated sweet air. Exhuming the fumes from my body, I looked up towards the sky. I'm Alive?
They huddled around me and I finally realised where I was, what I was trying to do before it happened. Their waning hands reached out and I felt my spine shiver. The blood on my hands thickened and like water it glittered against the harsh light which their paleness cast. Amongst them I found her. Her body naked. Syphoned of all life. Floating across the barren pavement she gazed at me as if examining a biological specimen. The gust of wind returned and her glowing hair wavered covering her face.
My eyes never left her. Even when she evaporated into thin air, I still managed to see her. It was a strange sensation but suprisingly familar. Her touch, her smell and her voice leapt back into my mind. The images flickered as if a forgotten photo album. Emphatically her marred body returned. Control? Drifted by the swell of currents I found myself back where I was. Expression hurt. Silence had killed my slumber.
Fine.
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Controversy. Opinions only complicate the matter. No need to haul my beliefs. What good is god?
"Perhaps if I wanted to be understood or to understand I would bamboozle myself into belief, but I am a reporter; God exists only for leader-writers."
(The Quiet American - Graham Greene)
Ippy
