It is the shadow at the end of the hall. Waiting, it never has the same shape. Sometimes it’s curved, sometimes more sharp lines, sometimes extra limbs, sometimes less. He wonders what it is waiting for, if it will ever come out of the wall. He wonders if it is lonely.
She couldn’t make out his features, as she was lying down on the grass and he was standing nearby, silhouetted by the sun and the bright blue light of the sky. Although she could not see his face, the way he stood was familiar, like a ghost returning from her past. But if he were a ghost, she should be able to see through him, right? She did not dare to breathe or move, but observe him, as he was observing her.
Chanpheng
There was a long visual silence as the days (then weeks, then months, then years) went by. When was the last time they had seen them? Had it been a matter of moments or eons? “I’ll be back soon,” they’d said; “back before you know I’ve gone.”
And now they were. And they did not look the same.
It is the shadow at the end of the hall. Waiting, it never has the same shape. Sometimes it’s curved, sometimes more sharp lines, sometimes extra limbs, sometimes less. He wonders what it is waiting for, if it will ever come out of the wall. He wonders if it is lonely.
She couldn’t make out his features, as she was lying down on the grass and he was standing nearby, silhouetted by the sun and the bright blue light of the sky. Although she could not see his face, the way he stood was familiar, like a ghost returning from her past. But if he were a ghost, she should be able to see through him, right? She did not dare to breathe or move, but observe him, as he was observing her.
There was a long visual silence as the days (then weeks, then months, then years) went by. When was the last time they had seen them? Had it been a matter of moments or eons? “I’ll be back soon,” they’d said; “back before you know I’ve gone.”
And now they were. And they did not look the same.
A dark figure creeps on the boundaries of my conscious, gobbling up my happy thoughts.
I’m a silhouette of my former self.