sleep tight good night is when the world stops and the universe is a box of cyan walls inside which you will find me with fever intense and endless and with my body hollow and transparent and just a little candlelight for heart which is hard to see, actually, for all these incandescent bulbs unnatural and nauseating but necessary, indispensable actually, these lights that burn my soul with their uncaring intensity they bind me they destroy me.
I keep on waiting
for a relief; she'll come barefoot
Like the wind she'll
blow out the candles I've lit
and like the wind she'll
whisper in my ear
I'm waiting for that
whisper in my ear ...
In the classroom, the teacher drones on and on in his maroon colored t-shirt that doesn’t suit him. His empty vibrations ripple through out the room, bouncing off the glass windows shut tight against the summer breeze, mixing with the clickety-clack of the ceiling fan to create a subtle dissonance, and stretching indefinitely and interminably in time and in space.
This line popped in my head yesterday with no context whatsoever. Then I spent the next many hours trying to remember where I'd read it. The answer came just as suddenly. This line is from the book "Hear the Wind Sing" by Haruki Murakami.