In the game / in life:
the Witness - the pseudonym of a boy
from the age of 13 until shortly after death
Their voices
were heard as if they were underwater. We imagined them locked up in bubbles
made somehow out of soap, or like those that represent dreams in drawings, and
I smiled.
Our smiles
disappeared just like bubbles as well, but they were hard to be noticed by
someone. For years, not one of them had the curiosity, nor did they try or
struggle to translate our smiles. They believed them to be as last bubbles,
from the category of those who leave the dying before they even gave up the
ghost, or with the exit of their souls, as if the soul was just air enclosed in
bubbles and couldn’t mix with water.
When the
twilight melted into the night, and by courtesy of the deep blue just like
stings, the stars gathered above us, we had the impression that all the bubbles
of the day had been just some kind of translucent eggs. They rose to the thin
layer where the waters met with the skies, with the closeness of the stars to
the waters, and burst gently, as if in a deafness. The stars were turning into
snowflakes or crystal flowers.
Everything resembled somehow the fertilization, but not so much that of the flowers, but more of the fish that danced around us.
