Write about anything you’d like. Somewhere in your post, include the sentence, “I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock.”
***
I wonder if anyone ever gave much thought to a simple idea of someone very important to you being in the same city with you. I bet for most of you it is a piece of your daily routine. "Why," you say. "we live in the same house and share a bed, why should it be something extraordinary?" Others will say that it is pure delight, and even if this is possible for only a short amount of time, it will never prove that long-distance relationships are doomed. And in this case all of you will be right.
But what if you could feel these two emotions at the same time? What if once you realise how truly weird this is - being in the same city with someone who means such a lot to you?
Although this idea was sounding in my head like leitmotif since the very morning the plane landed in this city, I still couldn't get used to it - and the moment I started realising it from time to time, very occasionally, while drinking coffee in one of the parks near the hotel, or walking in the streets in the evening, I couldn't help feeling dizzy. It seemed like the world suddenly broadened, as if they introduced one more dimension, and all the people, the buildings and streets, all the shining signboards - they all made their contribution to this, without even realising it.
I could endlessly walk around and breathe this unknown air if it wasn't for one thing - I came here with a definite purpose. Or I thought so in the morning, on that very day I decided to make it reality. After all, there wasn't much time left - even if they say a dream doesn't have an expiration date, and there's no ideal moment, sometimes you have to take a moment and make it ideal.
Oh, yes, you do, and you do exactly the same if you're some kind of a superhero who is bound to have a happy ending. Which I surely wasn't, I understood it the very second I got out of the taxi that brought me to a distant part of the city. With wet palms and trembling knees I started the last part of my journey, along a row of two-storeyed houses.
Luckily, there's only one I need.
***
I've never felt so much of a criminal, standing behind the corner of a small but neat mini-market and raising the collar of my coat, as if it could hide me in case of something unexpected. It's 8 PM, and I feel that I'm getting cold and that at the same time I could stand here forever. The absence of any action at this part of the street, and, which is more interesting to me, near that very house, seems strangely soothing. Somewhere deep in my heart I start feeling that it would probably be even better if nothing happened this evening, and...
I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock. A strange thing to do. People do strange things when their nerves let them down.
8.30 PM.
And there he was, checking his car for the locked windows or something else.
There he was, walking to the front door of his house.
As alive as anything else.
To be continued.
P.S. I still suck at writing every single day, and the only thing that I keep justifying myself with is that quality should prevail over quantity no matter what.
And one more - I really hope that someday all these pieces will turn into a kind of a proper literary work.
***
I wonder if anyone ever gave much thought to a simple idea of someone very important to you being in the same city with you. I bet for most of you it is a piece of your daily routine. "Why," you say. "we live in the same house and share a bed, why should it be something extraordinary?" Others will say that it is pure delight, and even if this is possible for only a short amount of time, it will never prove that long-distance relationships are doomed. And in this case all of you will be right.
But what if you could feel these two emotions at the same time? What if once you realise how truly weird this is - being in the same city with someone who means such a lot to you?
Although this idea was sounding in my head like leitmotif since the very morning the plane landed in this city, I still couldn't get used to it - and the moment I started realising it from time to time, very occasionally, while drinking coffee in one of the parks near the hotel, or walking in the streets in the evening, I couldn't help feeling dizzy. It seemed like the world suddenly broadened, as if they introduced one more dimension, and all the people, the buildings and streets, all the shining signboards - they all made their contribution to this, without even realising it.
I could endlessly walk around and breathe this unknown air if it wasn't for one thing - I came here with a definite purpose. Or I thought so in the morning, on that very day I decided to make it reality. After all, there wasn't much time left - even if they say a dream doesn't have an expiration date, and there's no ideal moment, sometimes you have to take a moment and make it ideal.
Oh, yes, you do, and you do exactly the same if you're some kind of a superhero who is bound to have a happy ending. Which I surely wasn't, I understood it the very second I got out of the taxi that brought me to a distant part of the city. With wet palms and trembling knees I started the last part of my journey, along a row of two-storeyed houses.
Luckily, there's only one I need.
***
I've never felt so much of a criminal, standing behind the corner of a small but neat mini-market and raising the collar of my coat, as if it could hide me in case of something unexpected. It's 8 PM, and I feel that I'm getting cold and that at the same time I could stand here forever. The absence of any action at this part of the street, and, which is more interesting to me, near that very house, seems strangely soothing. Somewhere deep in my heart I start feeling that it would probably be even better if nothing happened this evening, and...
I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock. A strange thing to do. People do strange things when their nerves let them down.
8.30 PM.
And there he was, checking his car for the locked windows or something else.
There he was, walking to the front door of his house.
As alive as anything else.
To be continued.
P.S. I still suck at writing every single day, and the only thing that I keep justifying myself with is that quality should prevail over quantity no matter what.
And one more - I really hope that someday all these pieces will turn into a kind of a proper literary work.
if they say a dream doesn't have an expiration date, and there's no ideal moment, sometimes you have to take a moment and make it ideal (c)
ОтветитьУдалитьI'm gonna steal this quote from you one day, I guess )))
The worst thing is that I guess it's not my idea ))
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