Strings of invidia

In the grand scheme of things, you are the emancipated and I’m the one who allowed myself to be incarcerated by apologies, pretexts and excuses instead of trampling dried leaves that cover pathways in some untarnished farm, secluded elsewhere, absent from the urban madness that has been my life for a great deal of time now.

I envy you. I really do. There are many times when, during a brief respite from the topsy-turvy waves of having a job, I emerge from the chaos, get a glimpse of a dazzling beautiful day outside the window and can’t help but think of you floating in rafts, trekking trails, scaling cliffs or simply drenching yourself of blissful needles pouring from isolated falls.

It cannot be helped that I get stabs of resentment. That I allow myself to be deprived of simple moments — moments that really matter. Moments that flavor the sweetest of dreams, the precursors of fond embraces.

That somewhere you are sodden with beads of sunlight, soaked with unblemished raptures of fresh air and the bluest of blue skies, your lungs constricting and expanding, soaring with the duets of crickets and streams. While I choose the suffocation of the metropolis and the tense taps of hurried footsteps navigating one appointment after another.

It may have not been confessed before but I do drift into wishful thinking, of sharing a hammock with you, while the afternoon heat rise from the ocean, its supplementary sister breeze rocking us into uninterrupted siestas as the afternoon quietly dissolves into another moment that slowly awakens another infant dusk.

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About Kenneth Theodore

I translate ethnic slurs. View all posts by Kenneth Theodore

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