The stars appeared again tonight. Over a pitch-black city, which seemed more like a country side. And there was silence. A tortured silence, which longed to be heard over all the alarms that went suddenly off. Such a noise pollution. But no noise, at all. That would be blessing, actually. Masking the whole unnecessary sounds. The stars’ song was enough. For a while… Then the problem was fixed. That’s what the people pretending to sleep thought, anyway. Their technical-breeze could be in operation again and keep them cool. Not for long, though… The stars started singing again. Disturbed by the alarms, again. The heat was too much and the people quite blurred from it. Could not see clear. Too much cool air in their boxes. Too many cool cells in their blood. The same thing was obviously repeated several times. When would they see clear, really? How many times could they repeat the same mistake? Choosing the ‘right’ thing? Hadn’t they learned how to count their wings? One on the right… and one on the left.
So, the breeze… Yeah… the breeze! I thought I’d remembered to forget about it. Forget about its taste and route through the leaves of the ancient oak tree. The spectators were just in time for the show. The grand operation, as it was announced by the fore-teller. I’d sleep on that. I’d sleep on those sounds I thought they would heal my ignorance to admit the truth. A crime I should commit, once and for all. Or, at least, twice. Just for the sake of making sure I got it right and taking myself seriously this time. There wasn’t any special secret hidden. Just common knowledge. An “1 + 1 = 2” kind of thing. Basic maths. Logic. [Hm… that simple?] No… not really. I was indulged by the comfort of punishing myself to an endless lie I had made my brain believe. I had turned into one of Pavlov’s dogs. Always hungry for another lie, another fake sound, another artificial breeze. The truth, I had hidden well and deep enough. Somewhere very nice, but couldn’t remember the place. Probably inside a tiny wooden chest that smelled of iodine yellow flowers and sounded like dust. Mostly in the beginning of the sound. This introductory sonorous dust that rings you the bell of some future memories. You can create it using the Delay effect, making the right settings. And it will arrive within your ears. It will then enter the middle part and if the pressure is kept well, it will knock on the door of your labyrinth, attempting to find its balance. At least, that’s what he said. The donor of the dusty sound. But the night was long. And that sound didn’t really help. It didn’t help at all, actually. It even worked as the soundtrack of a long nightmare you were in love with. And you loved the sound of electricity through your ears. Just coming in and out. Without letting it touch or give you anything. Just a waste of energy…
So, my dear reader. Yes, you… the one you’re writing this text! How much more energy will you let slip from your gorgeous cochlea? How much more time will you loose, trying to figure out where exactly did you hide any old truth? And how much more will you enjoy your still dust? I was recently told our planet is round. I recently discovered a map that wanted to burn. I could actually use it as a tinder for any old dream I dared to re-use. ‘Cause such an action would be called an insult… for my self …and for you …and all of us.
I, therefore, keep my old anti-war budge in the box, only as a memoire; and I shall wear my boots! Ready to walk in the garden and plant the seeds I was given. Under the singing stars …that fill my brain with electron.
to all of us, looking for the ‘moment’ to ignite the tinder
sounds sung -although delayed- by anna stereopoulou ~