I look outside a big glass window. It is morning. The sun is up in bright, crimson and gold flames but the duvet of clouds are letting it stretch and yawn in between. There is fresh dew on the grass, on leaves and on the mouth of a hopping bunny. The roses and the lilies in my garden have bloomed and nature is spring clean, fragrant with freshness and vitality, without a speck of dust. A faded full moon is still visible in the gilded sky with no foamy jet streams.

I step out.

The streets are empty and the houses are vacant. The doors and windows are wide open and the furniture peeps out from the sides of the multicolored curtains.There are no revving engines and there aren’t any kids walking to school. No human is in sight. There is complete silence. A memory shakes up in my plastic head. I have seen this before, I exclaim to myself – this is how it looked yesterday and the day before and hundred days before and thousand years ago. God! how long have I lived that I am weary of this perfection, this silence and this nagging comfort.

Isn’t that you always wanted – says a whisper. I look around but don’t find anything. The breeze continues; the flowers sway and solitude presumes.

Horrified, I look up. The clouds are gone. The sky is peaceful and it strikes me – I haven’t seen a night, I haven’t seen an evening in ages. It is always morning, it is always fresh and it is always nice! I shout and my voice cracks up as the only ugly intrusion in the universe.

I go back indoors, lock myself and write:

I fear silence because over time, it becomes worse than noise;

I fear everlasting day for it never gives a chance to begin and end;

I fear beauty that does not decay in time, it becomes tiresome;

I fear immortality because it takes away every virtue death is likely to bring;

I fear perfection for there is nothing to go from there.

My hand suddenly falls on my face making me scream and the shutters of my eyes open wide. The clock’s face shows four a.m. and the darkness outside my window confirms early morning dipped in ink.

Something in this night must have gone wrong for someone, for the world is tiresome,ugly and broken – just as we are.

I close my eyes and drop back to sleep – comforted that adulteration reigns within and outside.



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