A corner of a room is that place where it is so difficult to sweep the floor. Space where two walls touch each other with a visible crack. Vertical line from sky to earth. From the unknown to that very tangible material space under the feet. Diffraction of the sound waves. Mumbling. Distortion. Interference of the sound waves when the language you speak in is not the same as the one you used for so many years of you life. Thoughts galloping like black horses. Hundred and two degrees fever. Curvature of the spine. Sound waves. Ocean. Thoughts. Paint. White canvas. The wall. Corner of the room. Even a circle reaches a corner today.
Corner of the room where two realities meet. The orange wall of desires and ambitions and a pale wall of reality. Had the budget been bigger the walls might have been painted with more sophisticated colours. But it wasn't, so they painted them with what was available at a cheaper price. Anyway, it took them 3 nights of standing in the queue to grasp the tiles of tales they used for decorating the kitchen. The heart of hearth where they would light the fire every evening to heat the sparks of words neatly tied with the shoelace that he hung from that high ceiling fan to fly away through the window.
Blood on the fingers in the corner of the room when they decided to turn it into the sky but their courage ended with the red colour under the nails while scratching that dreadful white paint off the walls.
Corner of the room where you sit breathless in the middle of the night while all the thoughts dart like sun-rays and you no longer know where you are.
That corner of the room where your face is covered with the layers of dust but sometimes the wind blows through the open window and the uncompleted puzzles of that strangely familiar face stare at the vastness of the room. Where did I loose the picture from their box's cover?
She sat at the centre of the room and all the eyes turned towards that spot.
Corner of the room where I...
That damn corner of the room. They should start building houses with circular walls and spiral staircases.
Nobody likes sitting in the corner.
Corner of the room where two realities meet. The orange wall of desires and ambitions and a pale wall of reality. Had the budget been bigger the walls might have been painted with more sophisticated colours. But it wasn't, so they painted them with what was available at a cheaper price. Anyway, it took them 3 nights of standing in the queue to grasp the tiles of tales they used for decorating the kitchen. The heart of hearth where they would light the fire every evening to heat the sparks of words neatly tied with the shoelace that he hung from that high ceiling fan to fly away through the window.
Blood on the fingers in the corner of the room when they decided to turn it into the sky but their courage ended with the red colour under the nails while scratching that dreadful white paint off the walls.
Corner of the room where you sit breathless in the middle of the night while all the thoughts dart like sun-rays and you no longer know where you are.
That corner of the room where your face is covered with the layers of dust but sometimes the wind blows through the open window and the uncompleted puzzles of that strangely familiar face stare at the vastness of the room. Where did I loose the picture from their box's cover?
She sat at the centre of the room and all the eyes turned towards that spot.
Corner of the room where I...
That damn corner of the room. They should start building houses with circular walls and spiral staircases.
Nobody likes sitting in the corner.
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