Déjà vu

day forty nine / week seven - silver and cold
Image Credit – Iggy

I woke up after a long sleep – sleep of many hours, maybe a few days. I pulled the curtains and stepped in the patio.  A world of concrete bridges and buildings fell upon my eyes. The sparkling windows, the gilded blue water ferrying the boats around wheeled my mind. I wondered about the hidden people behind the doors, in the boats, under the azure rooftops sipping coffee, reading newspaper or watching this view of a quiet world like me, speechless and happy.

Then I remembered.

I have seen this before. Maybe yesterday, maybe the day before, or always. I rubbed my head trying to remember. It all looked familiar, the same angle of  sun rays hitting the windows, the exact darkness beneath the bridge, the murmuring silence in the silhouettes of trees and no soul in my line of sight.

I looked around for a watch – for two, familiar hands of time that could resurrect me, but the walls were blank just as my mind. The door to the outside world was shut and locked like my imagination. Scared beyond voice, I dropped on the floor as I started passing out. Time stayed still and space started closing in.

Déjà vu – I whispered before I fell asleep again.



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