Welt

What is wrong here? What’s happening to me? I’m feeling like if I’m repeating the metamorphose from childhood to youth. My body is changing, I’m feeling it. I’m losing weight but I’m eating healthier. I’m worried about everything and then I feel nerved like if I was in the entrance of 40’s but maybe it is just ten years less. Ten.
Don’t you sometimes hide platonic relationships (very hidden) to other people who appear in your daily live? Like the girl at the supermarket or like the butcher….
Today one of the most serious men I see through my daily life, actually yes, the butcher, he’s kind of wise guy. Not talking too much, not looking stupid, working and saying just few but enough words. Today I found he has more to say than that. He was smiling at me, and asked some few things and it was just strange. We are not always prepared to change those little things in our daily lives. I can be so obsessive I guess. So he changed the afternoon in someway. And it was not (and even it’s still not) over!
I caught a normal habit, one that most people do and it is to have a “personal” hairdresser. I knew days ago I was not seeing her ‘round (-my hairdresser-) and I was asking myself why? The answer came as the butcher’s smile. The front desk girl told me she’s going to leave ‘cause she’s pregnant. I’m so happy about her. I’m so happy she changed my life and made me think “superficial things” like “hairstyle” can give you a nice talk of some interesting things, then you as human, fall in love with the other. I mean always we have the opportunity to meet someone better it is we are able to appreciate the person. I mean I really like her, suddenly she turned into a good friend. And now she will leave back to Italy because of the baby. What to say? She leaves, I’m sad, it’s over but a new baby will be born. Her life will change and so stupid I am that I can even focus at last, that my hairstyle will too.
Is so funny. The serious, smiles, my friend leaves, a baby will be born and I’m also feeling pregnant of words! So long I was not writing here, so long I was numb. And all this changes are so good to me. I’m writing like crazy. Like an explosion. Write, write, write. Some doors are closed but some great windows are opened.
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“John,
I wish your train was my train. Some lies are spoken as truths. Some “evers” mean always. Some streets are rebuilt to let blood get a better way to heart.
God Bless you,
Marcie”
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So sitting in the train.
Where do you want to go?
You can look through the window, up, down…
Run away from the others’ stares…
You can run away through the others’ eyes.
(But this is not good idea when they catch you)
Look into the others books… but then letters are on the wrong direction. Listen to the others conversations… Look into the girl’s neckline. Enjoy the landscape. Feel the sun… but is a bit complicated when you enter a tunnel. Then, there’s really nowhere else to go.
You are not free in the train.
All people can look at you and you can’t even escape from that.
You’re sharing one small place, one part of your private life with the “others”, with the “strangers”.
You even have to listen to their noises or smell the sweet morning glow or regret standing next to the “men after work”.
Someone else might see you writing this,
and wonder.