Lake In A Room.
He was faceless.
His expressions were shrouded by nothingness. There was a vague sense of existence coming out of his mouth, for that his lips were the only thing alive. I was not able to understand him; his words were silent whereas inside my mind there was a noise. He asked me questions that I couldn’t answer and I gave him answers to the questions he didn’t want to ask. Our time was limited and the clock was ticking. I needed to leave and he needed to breathe… to breathe out his nothingness. He needed to exhale the words that meant nothing to the both of us.
His eyes didn’t even see me; they were glued to the empty space around us whereas mine were absorbing his attire. Within the darkness of the room, he was wearing a pink shirt and a golden necklace. I didn’t understand the connection between both brightness and darkness. These colors were doomed in that room; they would die slowly and painfully. The darkness was loud and his colors were too bright to survive that moment. His lips were still moving, asking me questions that he didn’t care to learn their answers.
My head was heavy and all I wanted was to leave that room and see the light, for that my heart was heavy and I wanted to smell the bright color of freedom.
“What’s the name of your father?” He blurted out, without looking at me.
My father was a good man and his name was a mystery.
“His name is different.” I told him, but he didn’t listen anyway.
He looked at the one-way mirror for few seconds. His reflection was bright on the dark mirror.
“What’s the name of your mother?” He asked nonchalantly.
My mother was a good woman and her name was transparent.
“Her name has drowned.” I said looking at his fading figure.
He inhaled loudly and didn’t move. His eyes were glued to the wall and his hands were in his pocket. I wanted to reach a hand and pull his soul, so we could both be free. Suddenly, loud music was coming out of the animated box by the corner and, then a woman’s voice started to speak.
“Human production or Human breeding is something that goes down to a single drop and an oval lake. Deep down the lake we grow, we learn how to survive darkness and to understand that freedom is vital. As we grow past the darkness and water, we become more aware that life is a Pandora’s box. The drop is a father and the lake is a mother. A mystery and a transparency; a combination of a human being.”
The woman’s voice breathed life into the both of us. Right that moment, I started to laugh hard. I lost control over my senses and, all I was able to do was to laugh through this surreal moment. Hysteria is another human treat; it is something that you would feel when you are trapped in a room with a strange man who asks too many questions, that he do not want understand.
He was, suddenly, standing before me. He eyes were, finally, seeing me. His expression was bleak. He looked me through the thick smock of his cigarette, assessing my behavior. Madness was an uncommon treat in that land of falling birds and thundering storms.
“Why are you laughing?” He asked me coldly.
“Drops and lakes are free.” I told him as I wiped the tears away.
He looked at me for a long time and then he stood back away and said “You may leave. You are free to go.”
Was I really free?
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