Sunday, August 22, 2010
My old house...
Today I went to my old house. Already, so incredibly old. I found a whole year of silence accumulated, with its 365 small days silence waits to tell all the emptiness that felt. Silences are small and gloomy. I swear I chat with them, until I could almost see them. I realized that at night they cry like children, for being so alone in the big house, I think. I thought a year was not much, but it is amazing how much time can do in a year.
I assure you - you already know - but you have to prove - that the time is so ruthless, so powerful. An empty house for a year, a vacant house once, so suddenly. A house with windows closed and sealed the door, filled with dark corners. And the patio, with plants that grow stubborn, foolish, unaware of absences, without realizing that no longer grow for anybody. Through all the rooms, I walked around the yard. It could smell the silence and darkness. I had to convince myself that it was the same house where I had lived for years. But, time erases everything - what a novelty. But when you say that, you do not usually think that everything is going to be erased. And yet, I find that house now, so empty of people as devoid of sound, so bereft of a voice speaking in another voice, without a cauldron on the fire to the mate, without a phone to ring, without someone call someone, without even one person to sleep and dream on a bed, not even two people who dream and do not sleep on a bed, cooking without a woman without a man caming and without a table set, no one reading, no music without the sound of someone who comes without a postman dropping letters, without a cat sleeping on the branch of the vine.
And then he realizes that this is the time, with its ability to empty in an instant what once was so packed.
At one point in the afternoon, when the silence began to bother me with its complaint - a little, in fact, beginning to feel sad - I became the distracted (left, I closed the door quietly and went outside, hurry. And I went to drink a coffee, and came to write this, I do not know why.
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