Saint Malo’s air is polluted with fall. When autumn hits this city and the faded sunlight anchors over the silent grey buildings, I think of you. My life stagnates as the October leaves turn orange.Yes, I do go through the motions if you are too snobbish about it, but that’s all there is to it.
Have you ever felt like you are the last person left on this planet and even time is not in a hurry to aid the evolution anymore? You don’t hear the clocks tick-tock.
I sit by the window and look down on the stone-clad street. Shadows grow long and dark, and so do my thoughts.
“Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the loneliest of them all”.
I see your face every time; I have seen it in your eyes. Through all your masks, through layers and layers of it. Standing in the middle of a masquerade ball, I have seen it. I see your smile thinning. Wipe that ‘all knowing’ smirk of your face, will you. You don’t. It lingers.
There is a strange stillness to everything as if a wizard cast a spell over the whole terrain and every living thing turned to stone. ‘Living thing’. It is such a paradoxical term. Living… yet a ‘thing’. That’s what I feel like. Do you get me? Do you? Oh well, you never do. Such is the lie we call knowledge.
It’s dark outside. Does that change anything?
“Mirror mirror…”
