05-14-2011, 03:02 AM
Birds Fly Toward the Sunset
-1-
It was hot. I walked. I had to walk, I had to move. Always walking, always moving. I went past trees and shrubbery and rocks. I climbed hills, up and down, and crossed rivers, one after another. Strange trees, strange hills. Strange rocks, strange rivers. I kept my eyes on the ground, on the orange and yellow and red leaves. The leaves, they rolled and rustled and crumpled. They crumpled under my feet. I did not admire the view. Another day, another place, maybe. But it wasn't. I had to walk, I had to move. Always walking, always moving. And it was hot. I felt my skin burn and boil, I felt sticky sweat ooze like disgusting sludge. Strange trees, they gave no shade. Strange rocks, they were not at all cool. Strange rivers, not even damp. So I walked and I moved with the quiet crunch of leaves under my feet. Crunch, thud, crunch, thud. My feet led me and took me through a thickly treed part of the forest. Strange forest, no shade. No shade, no water. Crunch, thud, crunch, thud. Only warmth and thirst. Crunch, thud, crunch, thud.
And then the sun became even brighter, even hotter. I did not need to look up to know that I could finally stop, but I still did. I do not know why, but I looked up. The forest ended abruptly. I saw it. A thick and long line of grey cut the yellow and orange and red in half. I could finally sit down. And I sat. I sat and watched. I watched them go by. I watched them walk and ride and crawl past me. Some in groups. Some were alone. It was a crowd. A grey crowd. Not an interesting crowd. Running, walking, riding, moving. Always walking, always moving. All of them hurrying, caught and ensnared by their troubles. Grey were the faces, lost the eyes. Such a massive wave of grey men and women. I let them walk, I let them ride, I let them move. I didn't disturb them and they didn't disturb me. They did not see me. They walked and rode past me. Some looked at me. They looked, but they did not see. Who knows what would have happened if they had seen me? Who knows? I don't know. No one. Perhaps he knows. Or perhaps no one. It was a little strange, watching them move like that. Watching them hurry. They should not hurry. They were strange. Perhaps as strange as the strange trees. Strange trees, strange hills, strange rocks and strange rivers. Perhaps I was- perhaps I am as strange as them. Strange trees, strange rivers. Only warmth and thirst. No shade and no water.
No shade for them, they should be punished. Moving, hurrying, walking. Always walking, always moving. Why were their gazes so blank, so empty? Why were their stares so vacant? Why were they so grey? Always hurrying. Poor horses. The horses weren't grey. They trotted, hooves making loud clicking sounds, and they kept their heads down. I kept my head down. Poor horses. Click, click, click. They did not see the horses, the grey men and women. All they saw was trouble. Their grey faces. One huge open book. So dull and so grey. They shouldn't hurry. A grey crowd. Not an interesting crowd. It was hot. They walked and they moved. And what did I do? No, I did not stop them. I sat. I sat and I watched. I let them go past me. Perhaps one day… Perhaps some other day. Another place, another day. I sat and I waited. I waited for him.
The sun was white. Oh, how I wished its pale rays would wash away the grey, the yellow and orange and red and the grey. I was invisible and they were grey. The invisible man and the grey people. We did what we had to. Always walking, always moving. And it was hot.