– This is my favorite song. – my sister smiles, holding her phone up-high so that we can hear better.
The first sounds of electric guitar kiss the air.
Slow.
Deep.
We walk home through the fields, neon green like new Louboutins wrapped into wet rice paper of grey clouds.
I know this song.
It moves into me.
Merges with me. Wakes me up and makes me cry.
Not visible. Silent.
Inside.
I don’t want my sister to see my tears.
For a brief moment, short five minutes, I remember.
Who I am.
And it is clear.
No matter how hard I try to surrender.
I am still hiding my truth.
Not living a half of it.
Living mostly in the darkness of not daring, not knowing, driving lightless.
Owning a space ship of a soul, able to bring me any place, any world, beyond space and time, and using it to crack walnuts instead.
‘There’s so many different worlds, so many different suns. And we have just one world, but we live in different ones.’
The last note of the song dissolves in the cold air of Easter.
The window of awareness.
Closes.
Sister, I and fields, neon green like new Louboutins wrapped into wet rice paper of grey clouds.
My space ship.
Please stay awake.
Beyond the song.
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