Sunday 26 December 2010

Photobucket

Beinhof Parlour, VF
....Everyone stopped and watched him move. He owned the song like it was none of ours, and none of us could own it like he could own it, in that second, that minute or how ever long we stopped and watched him, he was the only one that existed, his figure was a gap in time, his figure existed like nothing else in the room did, not the table behind him nor the chairs either side, nor the pictures on the walls nor the television, they all held nothing, they all vanished, they all shrunk and burned and died inside my eyes, and all that existed was his figure, it had its own make of atoms that did not belong to anything else, and I almost knew, I almost knew! I knew that he, and that we, were made of something different, that we were born to live and to die and to be here, and that there was a reason, that everything was a reason, that every moment was a reason, that every second was the reason, that every element was made of nothing that we were made of....

1 comment:

Noone said...

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