You won’t let me in. It’s alright. I don’t blame you, not much into any sort of emotions these days actually.
I just wanted to tell you…how should I begin?
It was long ago or maybe not? You see, it’s hard to be sure when you quit the strange habit of counting. But it had been a while I guess.
I was walking… or should I say climbing? A curious mix of both I assume. Unique mix that only snow, mountain and wind can give. I was told once that swamps are similar. I never tried them; I was too fond of life.
Anyway, I was moving forward, trying to scrub a few more meters of the day and the mountain.
It was cold.
Not the cold others know, a cold that you can defeat with coats and scarves, a cold that makes you think of hot cocoa and down. No, it was the kind that only you, I, and the likes of us know. Cold that makes you think of breath, of life, of seeing a familiar face again. I hated it, but ought to admit, I never felt more alive. My back was beyond aching. I wasn’t sure whether I possessed it anymore. I thought, again, how foolish it was of me to go alone. Or maybe, due to the circumstances, “suicidal” is a word more suitable. But I also knew that I had no choice. You never have choice when you are stupid, arrogant and confident in your powers.
And the wind was taking its victory over me.
And I forgot about death.
Impressing isn’t it? People rarely forget bout death.
But I did.
I remembered only wind, cold and hatred. The three defeated every fabric I had on me, and began a final battle with my blood and muscles.
Then I forgot the cold.
Later, when the wind conquered the bravest of my cells, I forgot hatred too.
Only wind.
They never found me, you know. Maybe they didn’t even look. Wouldn’t be much use in it, they would find only bare, pure nothing. The wind did its job well.
I became what I hated, you see. Horrible thing they say, the biggest defeat a person can experience. But they are mistaken. When you change, your views change as well; a simple truth. Everybody knows it, and yet forget it so easily from time to time. As I was no longer a person it did not matter.
I got a different role, new sensors.
You never stop. You can’t. You are nothing but movement.
Yet you can change.
You can be gentle while caressing a girl who fell asleep with her window open. You can be rough and wild, raising a cry of joy from a sailor. But there is nothing like dealing with your kind. With you, my dear man of strange, desperate mission, I’m my true self – a force of nature. You come here to see if you can defeat me, and I challenge you.
But you were still different from the others.
They came in groups, you came alone. They smile and shake, you grin and clench teeth.
You reminded me of what I used to be.
And I just wanted to tell you so much; of sights, of speed, of how different things can be. But you won’t hear me. You pushed me aside and hid in your tent, and all that is left for me is to roar around it, putting you to sleep.
But don’t worry - maybe we will have more luck tomorrow.
הקטע הכי מבאס הוא שבאמת האמנתי שיש לי סיכוי.
יש לי ביטחון מופרז בכישרונותי בשני התחומים שאני אוהבת.
ואני דמיינתי איזה כיף יהיה לי לראות את השם שלי באתר שלהם ולהבין שתוך מספר ימים גם ישלח לי צ'ק.
בא לי לבכות. זה לגמרי טיפשי, אני יודעת.
ולכשרון הכתיבה המוטל בספק מתווסף העדר הידע והניסיון באנגלית, אבל חשבתי שאם אני אזכה, זה יתן הצדקה לנסות ולקחת מסלול שונה בחיים. בשבילי זכייה אפשרית יכולה להיות סימן.
ויש לי מעין הרגשה מוזרה שרימו אותי. הפנטזיה החלה להראות לי כל כך ממשית שניתן לומר, שאכן, עבדו עליי במובן כלשהו, רק שהנוכל הוא אני. העניין הוא שבציור ובכתיבה, אני מנסה להעביר תחושה או אוירה כלשהי, ולרגע בטוחה שהצלחתי. אני שוכחת שכל ההקשרים והתמונות קיימים רק אצלי, ובשביל אחרים הדברים נשארים בגדר גיבוב מילים או צבעים חובבני.
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