Dripping

Ploua incet si e liniste in mijlocul multimii. Printre voci de diferite tonalitati. Volumul e dat la minim. Stii starea aia aproape ireala de calm asa si de singuratate moale in care esti atat detasat incat te uiti la oameni si vezi prin ei sau poate nici nu-ti ajunge privirea la ei, ci se opreste undeva in fata irisilor? Parca reusesti sa te uiti in tine.

Vezi fete miscandu-se si formand tot felul de rictusuri, expresii. Si tu te cufunzi in liniste. N-ai chef de ei, de oamenii din jur, dar esti legat de ei prin faptul ca, nu-i asa, omul e o fiinta sociala. In momente de genul asta i-as lua pe toti si i-as seda cu starea pe care o am acum. Sa fie o strada lunga, plina cu oameni care merg incet sau uimitor de repede, sau stau si privesc ciudat intr-o directie. Si nu scot un zgomot. Plutesc printre idei, ti se cufunda in ochi si nu zic nimic. Sa ne intelegem din priviri... nu chiar asta e ideea, asta-i o expresie si atat. Aerul se dilata, timpul formeaza niste coridoare prin care esti dus, parca plutind pe o sina magnetica.

Calm, liniste.

I took my gun and killed them all. The silence was distorted just for a fraction of a second. It's like I almost saw the air making a weird wormhole from the gun's pipe to his neck. And then blood, running down his beige shirt. Slowly and so beautiful that it kind of made me cry. Those around were looking at the blood dripping down his shoes and on the dirty pavement wandering if their's was going to have a different color, smell and how the puddle of blood will look like. They were only afraid that they would die to fast and won't be able to admire their life sucked away.