Maurice
You’re looking at him. That you simply cannot deny. What does he have? Tell me. It might be the eyes, but you have to look harder.
He walks by and you can’t help but pull your hand in and towards the back of your ear. You caress your hair and try to make yourself smaller. That way he might like you. Smaller.
Truth be told, young man, you’ve never truly liked your body, its always been either too small or too big for your desires, and those desires are but completely carnal, sensational, uncontrollable, erratic, and above all else, different from what your body actually is.
And he is farther away, moving through the long pathway that the trees in the plaza form. He seems to be going to the bridge. Why would he need to go to Saint Vincent’s neighborhood. Perhaps the café.
He keeps walking to an untold beat, melodic. Strong. And then you feel it in and all over your thighs. Now you wish to be bigger and strong.
Small, then big, and never you. Young and poor naïveté you are, you resemble a bit too much what we all used to be, and in that, you’re beautiful, and as such you stand up and walk, following the sun setting right over the mountains.
You don’t notice and now you’re running, running to the beat you saw Edward walking, too. Why did you choose to call him Edward? You always do that.
And it continues.
The trees are all facing towards you. It is beautiful, the sun in your skin and your feet on the street, amazing until it stops. You stop abruptly.
— Where am I going?
You don’t know the answer and step aside.
You gasp and look at the moon, which is barely visible for there is still daylight.
— Yet there it is.
You whisper thinking about the moon which, for a second, is you. Just as lost and just as hidden in plain sight, yet not absolutely for you are carefully looking at it. But then, who’s looking at you?
And it all fits in suddenly, and the trees turn towards you again. The sun shine brightly again and you stand heroically for you have now come to understand the meaning to all of it.
You’re just like Edward, you think, and go over the bridge, to see the river.
— And while the river flows, the city stands.
You say to yourself without really understanding.
Then you look to your hands and breathe.
— I guess I am not too solid.
A kid looks at you and you look at him for a second, and then back into the horizon towards which the river flows.
Then you jump and the scream of the kid is heard right before you hit the river.
Then your body flows, so do the feelings it carried.
Come together.
