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Aleksandra

Empty Page - No Words (14.03.08)

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Aleksandra

The desert sun, walked on the gray road. I found an cold room with chapped wet walls. The table without any grain to please my starving, just an old half candle, ink bottle and pale book, and one old wood chair. Few holes on the floor, and no any window to provoke the sunshine.

I sat on the chair and lit the candle. All with shivers and sweat, trembling from the fear of this dark cold room, scared from the invisible eyes who stares in me, and from the ghosts and voices in me, I put my hand on the dusty old book.

What is inside written? And who wrote this book? - I wonder and asked loud.

All silence was convened here. I opened and saw the tittle -

 

" Me " - I closed.

 

" Who is you? " - The silent room, with the tears on the walls, can't answer me. Ok, I will read more...

The handwriting was childish, as if that wrote some kid . A lot of the pages has just some crafts of the sun, moon, silhouettes of man and woman body and kid on the side. I was wondering what that means... And there is end on the book. Just one page is written and I noticed in the middle of the book, some pages are missed.

Here what was written in the last page:

 

" Maybe you wonder who I am? - It is easy . I am nobody. My life is this book. What you see inside? - Nothing. So that is my life - Nothing, just empty page in a book. I grown playing with this silence and dreaming between darkness and coldness. I have nobody and nothing, just a name, what my mom wrote for me with her blood when she born me. I remember my name is .....~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

What happen where is next page, no there isn't other pages. Who was this who wrote all of this and why the name is gone, just a long curved line after last words, there is no written name...

 

No words. Just silence around me. I start to cry, for this empty page in this crowd world. Never is found who lived here in this cold room. Nothing, no any sign. I couldn't stay longer, in this voiceless silence, where some ghost try to say something what never can be understand.

And then I remembered: when I lost myself in this life? Should my life be an empty book with empty pages like this poor creature what lived here? No - I should go back where I stood. I have many things to do, starting with asking for forgiveness, I hope there is still a place for me, in my nest...

 

 

icon_neutral.gificon_question.gif

 

Aleksandra


The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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goldenlangur

Hi Aleksandra,

 

This is so haunting and I like the way you carry the reader's attention and engagement to the very end. The juxtaposition of the "desert sun" with the details of a "cold room" and its contents, particularly the book, gives the narrative a dream-like quality.

 

Then the questions that the unidentified writer of the book unleashes in the narrator and the reader. You close the prose piece with a reflective extension of the metaphor of the book and the unnamed writer to a wider significance and meaning of your life. Your questioning whether there is indeed a closure of some sort in one's life, when all the things one has said, done or wanted to, are in some way, accounted for, gives the reader much to ruminate on.

 

The melancholy note you use works well.

 

 

Thank you for a great read.

 

goldenlangur


goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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Aleksandra

Thank you goldenlangur for careful reading and made me happy because this kept your attention. I wanted to show to play a little with the real existence. What means to be alive, and also my point is that we should spend the life good, to do something to not miss all life...

 

Glad you like it

 

Aleksandra


The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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summayya

nice openeing. I like how this piece keeps the readers attention. And how the book and the narator's life inter mingle.

 

Very interesting. Life is a gift. We should not miss out on life.

 

Many thanks Alek. I always like reading you.

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

wow aleks this is awesome and excellent. after reading this a few times i had daydreams of walking again and being at this place.

 

victor

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Aleksandra
nice openeing. I like how this piece keeps the readers attention. And how the book and the narator's life inter mingle.

 

Very interesting. Life is a gift. We should not miss out on life.

 

Many thanks Alek. I always like reading you.

 

Thank you Summayya. I m glad that you like this one and that you got the real point here. ANd I like reading you too, so where are you? I miss your voice.

 

Aleksandra


The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Aleksandra
wow aleks this is awesome and excellent. after reading this a few times i had daydreams of walking again and being at this place.

 

victor

 

AH Vic. Thank you for reading. I am happy to provoke in you daydreams and I wished you to can walk again, but let me ask you this, why you wanna be there at that place?

 

Aleksandra


The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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