i ghost through my own presence, needing others to sketch in outlines and fill in color. my own purposes and dwellings need a form of external confirmation, in the same way that i realise the window is a window from the tiny rivulets that navigate towards the sill.

the window is there, always. i know that. most days i simply look through it, rather than at it, but on days like this when the rain falls endlessly and conversations seem to drown in the heavy sky, i notice it before i notice the street outside.

people walk down below and i know none of them.

people are my rain; they shape my edges and justify my functions while bringing to light my finity. in this way, they pose questions and loosen tongues; they are givers of voice because voice is identity, and identity is always, necessarily formed.

i cannot see through myself, as i might on a day without rain, when the people are there. this is a conflict. people are definers, the me-and-them relationship draws out an elementary blueprint of need but for these plans to work there must be an element of transparency, a blue sky in the distance.

i need the rain to remind me that there is a window, but all the while that the rain blurs my perspective, there can be no vision, no perspective, no solace, no contentment, no happiness.

i need the rain to ease. i need a summer sky. i need a better forecast. i need a bright outlook. i need a positive summary. i need a seasonal change. i need no severe weather advice. i need a meteorological shift. i need an elemental progression. i need to lose my tenuous and painful grasp on allegory. that would suit everyone.


3 Responses to “opacity”

  1. You said it. I fall in love with our city in the rainy season.

  2. I love the fact that you write exactly as I think. To me that is the essence of good writing – a flow of consciousness thing where the reader feels as if they are thinking the thoughts along with you.

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