It was a moment of clarity. A moment where you understood the entire scheme of things going on around in the nearby of your thoughts. It tells you all about the big and the tiny details that you were thinking about few hours before this moment. Problem: it always is a moment. And mostly it's a forgettable moment.
You soon realize that you are trying to recall the enlightenment of that moment. But as far as you remember you find nothing that resembles it in that attic of your brain-house. Now, you are sinking. You are trying desperately to reach out to the bars that are provided on the side of the swimming pool. But then you realize that this isn't a swimming pool. You are sinking in the atmosphere.
Then you pick up the matchstick box that you find below. You want to light up this attic and see if you can find that moment. But as soon as the matchstick touches the matchbox, you hear a hoarse voice in the other room of your brain-house. You stop the matchstick there and then- dead still on its track of burning into flames and out of existence. The exploding voice tells you that there's only oxygen in this brain-house and nothing else and that lighting a matchstick in here will be like exploding a bomb. You chew out the matchstick and throw the matchbox away.
No sooner you do that, than you realize that you are still sinking. You try to hold onto the molecules of air. But they are too slippery. You walk a little. You drink that costly cappuccino that they sell at the airport. Wait, this isn't an airport! But you are sure that this cappuccino that you are holding right now was bought from one of those airports. You open your smartphone and try to find any messages that may tell you if you had been to an airport recently.
You still need to find that moment.
You pick up a hammer. But hey, how and why the hell did you get a hammer in your brain-house! And as you are wondering about the hammer you realize that the entire landscape or brain-scape or whatever that is around you has turned into nails. Everything that was present in that attic is now a nail. You take a step back overcome by a huge quantity of surprise pumping through your neurons. The broken sofa in the attic is now a bed of nails. Where the stupid memory postcards lay on the floor, now you see a bunch of nails bloating. On the walls you find nails hanging in the place of those incomplete paintings from the past. Maybe you knew that quote too well: that when all you have is a hammer, then everything looks like a nail. And then you realize that you have been believing that the only thing that you have right now is the hammer. You look at the lifeless hammer in your hand. Throw it, somebody says. You don't recognize the voice and neither do you want to recognize it. You realize that the more you focus on the hammer and the nail, the more you are distancing yourself from that moment. And that is when you throw the hammer outside. It lands somewhere with a loud thud, but you don't care where.
Your smartphone is no longer smart. The internet is dead. Feels like the age of reason is dying, you say. And then you wonder where you had read that phrase "age of reason". Exactly then something reminds you that you are still for the nth time sinking. You look up at the sky and see a jet flying by. You wish you had the Batman's grapple to shoot at that plane and save yourself from all this sinking.
And then all of a sudden there is a flash of sudden light. Your eyes close instantly. And when you open them again you see that you are not where you were before. You are above that place. It takes a few slow seconds for you to realize that you are flying. That you are rising up against gravity towards the tail of smoke that the jet plane was leaving behind.
To be continued…
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