And another night...
I woke up in the middle of the night by a sleepy voice. It was amazing. I woke up as I had woken up 3 months ago. I didn’t like the feeling. I looked to the voice. I loved this voice. It could be sleepy, it could be harsh, it could be so sweet, and it could be a human being. I smell the voice and it was the smell of 2 hours GYM and a lonely woman. I came up to take a proper look to my part of it. I went straight to bed and I tried to be as quiet as possible to hear everything.
I heard everything which I should hear. First voice: You shouldn't follow the clouds that crows are going toward. I could even touch it. It was so simple, so nice, and fragile voice. The voice, which I've tried so hard to hear it louder was in my hand. It was a soap bubble and it exploded with a noisy sound.
I put the noise down. I started to do some breathing. I closed my eyes in order to make my nose work better. I smelled a piece of bread which was re-toasted. And then another bread; yes it burned too. I followed my path on that one way street with no car, no bike whatsoever. Crows were singing in rap or it was kind of old school hip-hop. I couldn't really listen to it, because I started to smell the wind. I knew him from a long time ago. My ears started smelling as well. The wind had sort of smell from a place far far away. A smell of a house down by the river, which was welcoming you to have a cafe, or tea. Do you want a tea? Yes please. With milk or without milk? Just a bit, please. No No, Have you tried that Cappuccino we bought last week? No I haven’t. I want a Cappuccino, please. OK. You can try from mine. I will.
I opened my eyes. I saw a nice miserable voice which was singing some sort of coral and dancing in the wind in a very silly way. The voice was a dog. A bulldog that you just want to kick her ass because it is like a rugby ball. But her eyes were smelling like a dead rose. An elegy sort of tune.
Bird of pray was going down to the lake (or maybe cave, as leaves were gossiping about) to look for the pride. Such a glorious voice it is, I thought. But wind told me leave it alone man; he is just happy with a mouse, a rat maybe or two. Rats can also have sex. What is the difference, I said. Wind said fuck you man, smell it.
And I started to smell some drops on my head. It was raining. I looked to the sky and there were no crows any more. The cloud told me something about the crows. But I can't tell it to you. I mean I can’t put it in words. You should just smell it and that's it.
Down the lake the usual old man hiring the boat, were still taking the passengers. He hadn't charged me once I suppose. Yeah, I had just helped him to wash the dishes full of fish. That time he had been fishing. He used to have gray long hair but now it was completely white with an unshaven (maybe four or five days) beard. He was fatter than before. I went to say hello. He recognized me and asked so you are back man. Where have you been my red hair son?
I looked at the sky to find a word. I couldn’t pick one. It was full of scrambled letters but no word. I looked at him and I saw him smelling the cloud. He said, OK we can talk about it later. The rain is gonna make fishes to come up. Are you still fishing? Not really, I am so old to do that. So? They are bringing some light from the bottom of the lake. I couldn't pay my last electricity bill and it has been cut off. These days, there are not many passengers. I need some light for my shelter. But how come? I will show you, he said. Have you got a dead rose? Yes, I have one. Do they like the song? I asked. They just love it, he replied.
Crows were soaked looking to us from the top of the oak tree. They were so tired. I remembered the cloud but I felt sorry for them. They haven’t chosen to be crows, I thought. But they are. A group of ants were walking toward their nest with a dead fly. Wind sent their message. I asked how come? The crows are still here. I went completely in a different direction. But they are wet, wind said. Can't you see it? Yeah. So? I asked. Son, Are you wet? Old guy smiled.
I looked at myself. I was dry as my grand mom's bed sheet. Full of dried colorful Lillie's smell. She shouted from the kitchen: the bread is ready. I was running. Be careful it is hot. Oh, I burned. I told you; it is hot. But I burned myself. All of us are burned, she replied.
I loved to look at her old pictures. I saw a picture of a lake and a handsome guy near a boat. Who is he? I asked. He is your grandpa. But grandpa was dead when you were pregnant and you were pregnant in the picture. I was in secondary school, something like 13 years old (not a very lucky age, of course) and I knew about Odip when I was 8. That was sort of disrespect for me. She smelled my eyes. Smiled and replied by her touch that you are gonna know it one day.
And there were no clouds, no crows. Both were tired from pissing each other off. Old man was taking the light into his shelter. Thanks for the dead rose, he said. No problem, anytime. See you again. Maybe there is no more time. But see you again. yeah, see you.
He went inside the shelter and lighted up the candles. It was the smell of re-toasted bread in the garden. I looked to my hand. Yeah, the same bread that burned my hand. He looked to me through the window. Do you want to have a cafe? Why not, my granny told me once that never say no. Oh, sounds very familiar. I think I heard it one time from a red rose. He replied.
The fireplace was full of dead roses. Why you didn’t use your own roses. They are not for light. They are just for heating, he change their place in the fireplace. The house was warm and very cozy. He asked me: So where are you going? While he was looking at the fireplace dreaming about making love with my grandma when she was pregnant. It was sunny summer mid-day in his dream. You know son, I still have some bread if you want. No, I ate. Yes, I can see it. He looked to my hand.
We sat down and enjoyed the song from the fireplace.
OK, I am off, I said. OK son, all the best. Say hello to the river. I haven't met her for a long time. I will. Don't forget your swimming suit. No it is in the office. And towels? Yes I think.
I went to put on my shoes and I saw two snails crawling on the sea in different directions. Lake was actually a sea from this perspective. Now I understood why he used to call his boat, old spy in the sea of stars whenever he was getting drunk. He was smiling at his dream. I felt his smell and the voice of my grandma. Laughing or crying? Noting, wind said. It is just the sound of instincts pleasure. Don’t be so philosopher, I barked at him and keep on smelling. Their bodies became one and their voice as well while I was still wondering if it is laughing or crying. The sun was very pleasant and bumble bees were flying around the unified body. They smelled the sweet as well. Anyway, it was not that important. Old guy was dead in his dream, like my granny in hers.
I buried his body with all other dead roses. It took some time, although sea made the soil much easier to dig. I text Miklos that I will be 20 minutes late for swimming. I released the boat into the sea with a seed of rose. It faded in the horizon while albatrosses were diving in the sea and taking the light from fishes lips.
Snails were keeping on crawling and they made a sticky path all over the sea. That’s how some people could walk on the sea; wind whispered while he was scared to look at my eyes. I was too harsh with him, I confessed. I looked at him. Sometimes you are right old bustard. He smiled and hugged me. You are my friend, you know? I know.
I just took the picture of my grandma from the fireplace. I closed the door and put this sign on it: "FOR SALE".
Let’s go. Wind was going to give me a lift. He lighted up a cigarette. Do you want one? No, I just finished mine.
We were on the highway that snails had made.
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