ا.س.ت.ک.ه.ل.م

هنوز هم اگه نون داری بده سق بزنیم.
 
the second etude
ساعت ٦:٢۱ ‎ب.ظ روز ۱٦ تیر ۱۳۸٩ : توسط : شوکا بهاری

The second etude  

“ I’m not a writer. I’m just writing about the things I missed , the feelings which left me , made me empty, emptier and now after all these moments that passed , I think somebody inside me cries, every night in silence. I’m not a writer , I’m just trying to find the things I missed, in words .”

If you ask me what I was doing there, there is no answer. I don’t know! I think I’ve just been there cause I was, no desire, no force.  I was such kind of witness of something without name, painful , colorful but without name. I was alone between them. They were  laughing all the time, they were happy , there are happy , I was there cause I need to see them , to write them, to forget myself, to be brave enough so they wouldn’t understand they won. I was there cause …. I don’t know.

The queen

The queen asked why? I just answered that’s life.  She closed her beautiful eyes and started singing, singing , some strange words came out from her mouth surrounded with red lips, her black hair was moving with wind, with words, with voice. He answered because I like you, your eyes are beautiful, there is something in your eyes which make me stare at you all the time. The queen answered I prefer to be liked because of myself not my eyes. My eyes will bury sooner or later but my thoughts are eternal.

 “ that’s life”.

 The queen opened her eyes, looked at nowhere , between air and light. She smiled at me. I left the room.

 The passion

I couldn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to see, I didn’t want to be the looser of a story , the   looser of life. But you as a reader must understand that they won. Their magics, their colors, they faces which covered by masks all of them were stronger than my desire. They won and you know I’m the looser of this story.

I left the queens room , the golden room. Passion passed me in corridor , she was the youngest one, the most colorful one. For her life had meaning in bed, in making love, in touching and to be touched. For her life was short and full of joy. She entered the room , undressed , white as milk , soft as silk. I closed my eyes. I became the witness of sounds, lips, arms, legs … full of joy. I  was listening  to the sound of being a normal human. Passion was the one who was far far from me, she was the winner. She was herself all the time.

“ I can feel the loosers”  

The Japanese harem

I went to harem in Berlin, beside the wall where God was female and black, collection of impossible and phantasy. I left the harem near a lake, when sun was doing it bests to be a normal sun, collection of logic and attempt. You as a reader want an ending, but I told you I’m not a writer.