Sunday, October 31, 2004

The language of confessions

I could have sworn his peppered hair gleamed the way his eyes did, when he turned back and looked at me.

He had read my mind and knew exactly what I had been thinking. His words were not hidden. He wanted me to know that he had been reading my mind. He wanted me to know that what I had been thinking, my inner thoughts, my personal space, was open. Open for him to read. Open for him to let me know they had been read.

For a moment I was taken aback when he first spoke. His words came out and jolted me. And then everything wooshed into stillness. His mouth was opening and closing but I had no idea what he was saying. His villainous eyes gleaming. In knowledge. In knowledge that he knew exactly what I had been thinking. And that I knew that he knew.

I kept staring at him. Time had stopped. I could hear nothing. Just soft music playing and I felt as if I was floating. Floating away.

My secret language violated by his seasoned ears.

* * *

I could have sworn her beautiful hair lost its shine the way her eyes did, when I turned back and looked at her.

I thought I had read her mind and knew exactly what she had been thinking. My words just came out. I wanted her to know that I had something to tell her. I wanted her to know my inner thoughts, my personal space, was open. Open for her to read. Open for her to get to know me.

For a moment I was bold when I first spoke. My words came out and she didn’t seem to be listening. And then everything wooshed into stillness. My mouth was opening and closing but I had no idea what I was saying. Her beautiful eyes questioning. In confusion. In confusion perhaps, because I was saying exactly what I had been thinking. And that she didn’t know what I was saying.

She kept staring at me. Time had stopped. I could hear nothing. Just soft music playing and I felt as if I was floating. Floating away.

My secret feelings violated by my pathetic confession.


14 comments:

Akshay said...

I liked this post it has a moving dynamic .Its like when you cut from the voice of one narrator and move one to another it gives you an entirely diifferrent view.

Garrison Steelle said...

Both incredible pieces. You have such a wonderful talent with the language.

So, when't the book due? ;)

-G

Anonymous said...

A real man doesn't need facades. I suggest you remove that silly picture on the profile mate.

wandering dervish said...

excellent stuff, a pleasure to read! it would be interesting to see how such a beautifully impressionistic style creates a narrative.looking forward to more such stuff.

Jessica said...

As always I love reading your words, they are beautiful.

Pincushion said...

Loved the juxtapositioning in such a diametrically opposite manner ! How things change..illusions really..dont u think so ?!!
beautiful piece :)

. : A : . said...

akshay, Garrison Steelle, wandering dervish, Jessica, Pincushion - I really enjoyed playing around with this one while writing it. I wrote the first bit, and kept staring at it, unhappy. And then the second bit came to me, and it made all the difference to this piece. Glad you liked it!

akshay - I really enjoyed the cutting from one perspective to another. It gives you so much more to write about.

Garrison Steelle - The book is due next year. Am working on the final bits.

wandering dervish - Yes, would love to create a longer narrative with this. Will definitely try this style again.

Pincushion - Yes, things can be very different from another's perspective.

Cori said...

brilliant.

Ariel said...

Effective juxtaposition here. Recalling an earlier post, crafty old men seem to be a recurring theme in your writing. Hmm, what's the archetypal significance of that? ;)

. : A : . said...

Cori, Ariel - Thanks.

Ariel - Just a coincidence for now. A couple of more times and it will become deliberate!

:-)

Ubermensch said...

ohlala....
loved it!!u push words into that space between the tcking of the clock!!

. : A : . said...

ubermensch - Glad you liked it. Thanks.

iamnasra said...

The two side of confession...As always you bring the creatvity into the heart of writing

. : A : . said...

iamnasra - Thanks.