Thursday, May 6, 2010

...falling apart...

– and apart from the noise of the wind blowing in her face, not much else was to hear; perhaps, the quiet and persistent roar of a distant, not identifiable device that reminded of a steam engine. Although she did not cease to provide resistance to the power of nagging at her determination, she was in a complete lack of security, gradually becoming prey; everything seemed in places, as if in a state of occupation, where and when one doesn’t make efforts for anything, preferring to avoid any sign of human presence.

In this terrifying perfection of silence, one wouldn’t hear any wailing or beating noise; the almost flawless silence seemed to respond to any crime. She realises that the hair-raising events, the participant or witnesses she has been, where more than arbitrary products of imagination, were evil undoubtedly was a connection; an accurate and appropriate relationship, longing for an explanation.

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