I saw a winged mermaid, you know?
the other day
I told myself that
I started to write too late, in my life
at thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old
The mind has dried, taken its shape
In my case that means: Without the know-how of a writer
I have many ideas, but I can’t put them in words the
Way I want, properly
So that the resulting sentences would be beautiful like a
a
Woman’s body, and strong like the mermaid’s fish tail
a fish tail is useful when you explore the depths of the
Subconscious.
also, my words, if
They were any good, they could carry me far above my own
Fears
if, if, if.
If I had wings like the mermaid I saw...
the next morning (I sleep in the morning), I had a dream:
[Picture: The Moon by reading_is_dangerous]
the other day
I told myself that
I started to write too late, in my life
at thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old
The mind has dried, taken its shape
In my case that means: Without the know-how of a writer
I have many ideas, but I can’t put them in words the
Way I want, properly
So that the resulting sentences would be beautiful like a
a
Woman’s body, and strong like the mermaid’s fish tail
a fish tail is useful when you explore the depths of the
Subconscious.
also, my words, if
They were any good, they could carry me far above my own
Fears
if, if, if.
If I had wings like the mermaid I saw...
the next morning (I sleep in the morning), I had a dream:
I had just arrived at a shopping mall
As it was about to close, within half an hour, I remember
I rushed to a shop to pay for two pencils I had stolen earlier
“People seldom do that.” the owner said
Yeah...
then I saw a bookstore
I really wanted to take a look inside
But I knew the place was about to close
So I was just standing at the entry, hesitating
When a voice said, “Come in!”
“isn’t it late?” I asked
“Don’t worry about it!” the voice said
inside, there were thousands of books
I looked at the ones closest to me
And as it often happens in dreams, they all seemed super
“Why can’t I write stuff like that?” I asked myself
one book was about regional Japanese ghosts
The maps were drawn with golden ink
I read a bit about the “Trout ghost of Y.” and
The “Plum ghost of N.”
one graphic novel told the story of Zack, the faceless little boy
Who lived in a forest with his uncle
Who would release an owl every night, telling the kid, “Maybe the
Bird will find your face in the forest.”
every morning the bird would come back, without a face for Zack
But the little boy didn’t seem to care much
the novel was about his adventures in the forest
With the many creatures he met there, some real
Some imaginary
And all trying to help Zack
To find his face.
As it was about to close, within half an hour, I remember
I rushed to a shop to pay for two pencils I had stolen earlier
“People seldom do that.” the owner said
Yeah...
then I saw a bookstore
I really wanted to take a look inside
But I knew the place was about to close
So I was just standing at the entry, hesitating
When a voice said, “Come in!”
“isn’t it late?” I asked
“Don’t worry about it!” the voice said
inside, there were thousands of books
I looked at the ones closest to me
And as it often happens in dreams, they all seemed super
“Why can’t I write stuff like that?” I asked myself
one book was about regional Japanese ghosts
The maps were drawn with golden ink
I read a bit about the “Trout ghost of Y.” and
The “Plum ghost of N.”
one graphic novel told the story of Zack, the faceless little boy
Who lived in a forest with his uncle
Who would release an owl every night, telling the kid, “Maybe the
Bird will find your face in the forest.”
every morning the bird would come back, without a face for Zack
But the little boy didn’t seem to care much
the novel was about his adventures in the forest
With the many creatures he met there, some real
Some imaginary
And all trying to help Zack
To find his face.
::: ::: :::
[Picture: The Moon by reading_is_dangerous]
Posts
Bravo
ReplyDeletecomme toujours j ai hate de te lire a nouveau,je me demande toujours ce que sera demain car avec toi tout es possible dans
l imaginaire, qui souvent est aussi la realité de tous les jours
si si si tu publiais ce serait un cadeau pour toi et pour nous
scientist now know that brain cells make new connections every day even as you get old.Writting is an art form that can be developed at any age either with appropriated training or writing to increase your skill. I think you'r doing very well with this story about a Zack ,a faceless boy, every night he goes out and the reader is curious to find out if he will find a face for Zack. Why does Zack doesn't seem to care that he is faceless?
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