in a wool bathing suit, in deeper and deeper water...

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standing up to the neck in water, in a heavy bathing suit, the thick wool pockets filled with led-sculpted "survival tools". what was he waiting for really? he should have figured out that he was not really able to swim... probably before he went in? and his family on the distant shore, cheering for, with brightly painted boards, urging him, their only "swimmer" him to go deeper, "GO IN DEEPER!" they said. Not one of them has ever made it this far from the shore. Not a single one of them ever managed to get to that point where holding the nostrils above the salty waves becomes a real, a major, an overwhelming challenge. They pranced in the sand, they pointed proudly in his direction, they waved their stupid signs. Their striped ponchos, hand made out of colored sheep-hair. The sun would burn freckles onto their almost transparent bodies. He knew that he was in very deep. His toes hurt from barely holding on to that one turtle shell he managed to hold on to for a while now. He knew he had walked all this way here because he himself had chosen to... Nobody ever told him how to swim. He had invented ways to wave his arms in ways that looked pretty much like real swimming... Heavy, thick wool. "So the water is not cold". Heavy thick wool. "Because that's the way to do it". Heavy thick wool. By now he should have gone further perhaps? Heavy thick wool. Thicker now. Each fiber filled and filling more with salty water. When he closed his eyes, there were vast landscapes, an immersive experience. Levitating above the evaporated lakes with dried toes and fibers locked in them, he felt that this was so much closer to where things should be... But how could he possibly know?... no matter what direction he would step into now, the water would fill the space over his head... there would be no oxygen for him for a while... no matter where he decided to step now... the water was not only deeper... it was rising... rising... rising... the wool swimming suit was soaking in more and more and becoming heavier and heavier... ... that's when he threw up.

2 Comments

I am always amazed at the imagery you are able to create in my head. I don't presume to imagine the source of your words, or even to garner the same interpretation, but I am always thrilled.

(thank you so much... dives into language are such an adventure for me... as I am a bit of a naïve explorer.)
: )

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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on September 25, 2004 10:57 AM.

The exciting idea of an ironing board... was the previous entry in this blog.

New York might be one of the tiniest cities on earth, at times. is the next entry in this blog.

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