17 may. 2013


Every single detail reminds me of the book we read together under the rain. Then, the rain fell, relentlessly, furiously, sorrowfully. The Moon watched everything with her twisted smile, hanging from a nail in the middle of that fake sky made of a very well painted piece of cardboard. The colors were bright and harmful, we tasted them and they were as unreal as you and I. The clouds cried to an invisible song for hours while the five of us ran around the Tree of Reyya, chasing death even when we should not do that.
Do you remember what was that Moon's name? Wasn't she your best friend? I remember you talking with her every morning, ignoring what the flowers thought about that. Why is that you only worry about yourself? I stop running; it is a stupid thing to do anyway, why do we even try that?
Boo'ya! you scream suddenly, running away and chasing the flowers while the dust accrued for years is blown away, making the butterflies sneeze. Where did you learn that tricky word? Every time you say it, our world becomes a little bit darker.

Boo'ya! and the clouds crashed.
Boo'ya! and the colors faded.
Boo'ya! and the masks fell.
Boo'ya! and the flowers cried.
Boo'ya! and the moon smiled.

You do not visit us anymore, up here. We miss you, maybe. The leaves of the Tree of Reyya do not stop raining, like those clouds did while we were reading about the history of that world of fairies, elves and heroes fighting against an eternal wicked villain in a depressing land of ashes. Has rain fallen from the sky, though? Has rain dripped out of the tree? Has rain dripped off the moon, or the book, or the mask, or the heart? Weren't ourselves, then, who have poured out our eternal emptiness? I remember that, while we were dyeing of red the flowers, who with their tiny petal mourned for our friendship.Where was God then, when we fell like rain? Why didn't he tend us his hand, knowing us as miserable and ephemeral?
I asked you once about your face. Why can't I see it? What are you hiding? But you answered me with silence, and silence, and silence; silence was not enough for me. It is not enough for me. Nothing is enough for me.
Drops, drops, drops. The downpour of words has started now, and it is not going to stop until we all get razed. I watch the fall beside you, so far away from yourself that I can almost touch you, so close that I miss you until my whole body hurts. I watch while you vanish screaming that wicked word, and everything around disappears in pain:

Boo'ya! fall.
Boo'ya! rain.
Boo'ya! cry.
Boo'ya! fade.
Boo'ya! Moon.