The immaculate - 8
Sure, but what if life ended tomorrow, what would we do? When? Now? And I found myself sputtering out nonsense. That they wanted us guzzling inertia, our ability to act and state ourselves, don’t you reckon? And she agreed, nodding her head in the distance (this Christmas spirit thing really works). A faint wink in her eye, the wonder of her hands and the way they opened out on the table top. And then, without notice, but in a liquid, slow voice, she twice repeated that we would sleep our just reward away until it was daytime once again, until it was nothingness all over again and we could simply skip the phrase, imagination, world, whatever. What would this lifeless world be, after all, tomorrow morning? But would we really sleep? How, I asked myself. And no one else.
(to be continued)