By Aline-Mwezi Niyonsenga
Time thickened. A strange viscosity made the world spin slowly around her as she paused on her way to her locker. The room around her was alive with chatter and buzzing movement; think bees and she was honey reflecting it all.
Time thickened. A strange viscosity made the world spin slowly around her as she paused on her way to her locker. The room around her was alive with chatter and buzzing movement; think bees and she was honey reflecting it all.
There was
Micah, lightly punching Aidan in the arm as their lips moved rapidly. At the
far corner, her friend Kaira was shadowed by Takemi who leaned close towards
her while Kaira murmured up at him. George and Laura passed by her, folders in
hand, whizzing to class. There was her group of friends to the right of her,
laughing over a laptop, a jolly scene that she edited herself out of just to
see what it would look like. She took all these vignettes and placed herself in
the cameraman’s feet.
…
The
cameraman is not a character in this movie. The cameraman is an outsider. He
sees, he documents, he does not intervene: not when Kaira looks away, not when
Aidan glares at the table, not when her friends forget her completely. Simply
watching, the cameraman can occupy a space untouched by time, for the briefest
of moments, until he is forced back into the scene of his own miserable saga.
…
Finally, the
honey fell away from her. She hungered after its sweetness, the dreamlike spot
she had occupied, rich, quiet, peaceful as a plump golden Buddha. Already, her
heart devoured its remnants until it ached for more and found that it would not
be satisfied for some time yet. ‘Some time’ could be days, weeks, months, decades.
What would she do? What could she do? Unable to settle like before, her wings
beat harder, faster, until all she could do to keep herself from collapsing was
to fly swifter than despair could pull her down.
Interesting!
ReplyDelete