Catalogue | Souvenirs | E-mail | Links
«we're floating in space... | Front | fireflies »

August 08, 2003

It was all very loud and very clear. All at the same time. All with the same intensity. There was a spectrum of though, of course, but overall, her conscious was an uninterrupted stream of very well digested knowledge. Every hour on the hour, her imagination came down to a single magnetic point. Then the world exploded into thousands of voices.
She knew so much more than she would ever be able to share with anyone, ever. Though the sharing part was also only possible when it happened without any delay. She was able to say what she thought, right away, instantly... never ever what she remembered. She just did not remember.
Or she did, just not well enough...
Sharing was her specialty though. She was really good at focusing on a tiny sliver of her vast spectrum of thought. When asked for the right story, her monologues could be anything from simple spoken words to laughter of children to grand interpretations of beautiful compositions as performed by the worlds best orchestras under the direction of the most renowned conductors. Like that. Perfectly sung by her large and very well calibrated speaker (She made it all sound a little richer than it actually was). Not interrupted by any of the other things going on in the world.
She loved to come along on country trips. Friends would gather around her on a blanket in the grass and she would sing and tell them stories until her batteries made her feel heavy and tired and sleepy.
She would then often awake early the next morning, with weather on her mind. Then there were more important events. Urgent traffic data. Markets.
The days were often spent with playing Satie or Chopin to the cats. Evenings could be filled with excitement and summaries of the day.
Much of the fun ended once the television arrived. The dumb and graphic television, all about pictures, pictures, pictures. It took over as if it were an altar for some universal religion of dumb. It could also be extended with memory modules of various sorts. Canned superficial dream simulations.
The stereo also boasted with its ability to speak with two voices at once. And it also remembered stuff... (Except it rarely had anything new to say... and if it was new, then it was actually pretty old...)
Then came the computer, then the iPod. Over, out, too much...
The accident sealed it all. The fall was so unexpected, so violent. The floor would not have been so bad, had there been any carpet on it. And it was actually the water bottle that had been left by the table that broke the glass. Now the scale for frequencies was not protected. It was completely exposed. Touched again for the first time since the factory. How embarrassing.

She ended up whispering up to the minute stories to the old typewriter and the burned out super8 projector in the darkest depths of the closet. (Unable to change the station, she somehow came off as a bit narrow minded and not overly bright...)
It took years before they took her out again. It was a summer afternoon. Just like the ones she liked best when spent by the river.
She found herself on moldy blankets, with a little price tag attached to her antenna...
She wondered if she would ever be able to share anything with anyone again, or if she would just be crushed into pieces and become part of a landfill.
After several hours in the sun she was touched by a pair of hands. They were not as strong as the ones that used to carry her around. They were incredibly investigative and careful. A very careful fingertip touched her dials, then the exposed frequency scale... the hands paused... one hand turned her dial and the other gently followed the movement of the frequency marker.
Never before had she been touched in such a meaningful way...
Something told her, that this would be the most loving and meaningful relationship of her life.



You always share such amazing stories. Thank you.

Posted by: Christine on August 9, 2003 06:05 PM

(oh, thank you for liking them...)
: )

Posted by: Witold Riedel on August 9, 2003 06:10 PM
Post a comment

Email Address:



Remember info?