6 walls. They move in and in and closer and closer. Soon, they are touching me, but I squint my eyes until they are all but closed and I see through. These walls are glass and if they come any closer they will break. My eyes are closed, and when I open them, they are gone. I’m free. But up, up in the corner, a smudge whispers to me that the walls are glass. They are not gone, but they tempt me by revealing what lies on the other side. I look up. A brilliant blue sky. Sea gulls flock by the sun and I wait for their cry, but I hear nothing. My glass box surrounds me. If I scream, these walls will shatter and I will hear, but I don’t. I’m alone, but I cannot scream. I cannot scream because I belong here, behind these walls. And if I scream, the brilliant blue in the sky won’t seem so brilliant and the cry of the sea gull won’t be a mystery anymore. I will be vulnerable. So I stand perfectly still and close my eyes, and my glass box dissolves, but not really.
January 10, 2011