bopis

It had been a slow day. It was still a slow day come early afternoon at the Freedom Park. Beautiful and slow. As if the day was posing for a picture and was curiously particular about the bend and angle of its back. And the naturalness of its pout. As if I had all the batteries in the world, all the film rolled into a pocket Mobius strip. But I had, in truth, no camera with me. Took me a long while to consider if maybe the day could instead fancy me writing it down. I decided to buy a pen and pad, the store was just a walk away, out the campus, and the items were not as expensive as a camera. That was what I told myself. Still what I keep telling myself. Costly. Perhaps I should have been less frank and just said that the items were less bulky than a camera, or that I was an idiot even with cameras that had only one button to speak of, or that I was never a thief of souls, or that I was predestined to travel light, lighter and lighter until the shattering of a whiff of air and it would have been more difficult to dispose of a camera than a sheet of sparkling poetry. With candor or none, I had to say something to myself, because it was a beautiful and slow day, because that same store a walk away sold cameras, because after failing to walk back to Freedom with one, I found the day either sighing or swooning – who could tell the difference on an afternoon with bad acoustics? Also because during the second I arrived, the second when a camera with a soul button would have clicked the day in, I had only written “It”. Or maybe just the “I” of that. Probably less. I spent evening until midnight to get it right on pen pad, “It was a slow day.” Then I went from there to several weeks of trying to get it right in one paragraph. Bought more paper for the purpose of my hours. Week upon week of writing and throwing away and trying to get it right and always coming back to Freedom to recapture a single day. But it had swooned or sighed its last. Getting it right does not amount to getting anything. Except older.

Etiquetas: woman19