marți, 27 octombrie 2009

Chronicles of a modern writer (Bedshaped)

The 27th of October 2009, 00.35 AM (Eastern Europe/Istanbul time zone)
(Listening to Angelica - Ananthema)
Sometimes... Sometimes, it happens to me to wake up in the middle of the night feeling a strong pressure to put some of my thoughts on paper... I`m not in my bed, nor on the keyboard. I`m on the floor, in my bedroom with my eyes wide open - this is actually a journal entry which will later become a blog post, depending on my mood.
In ancient times, there was this belief that writers and poets could only write under divine inspiration. Well - I only feel inspired, I don`t know who or what is to blame for it.
I`m lightening my paper sheet using the light from my cell phone, I don`t wanna wake up Cristine Rosalie, she drifted in peaceful dreams long time ago.
Sometimes... Sometimes, I have this feeling that I wanna see myself while I`m sleeping. But I cannot do it because while I sleep, I`m trapped inside my inner world dreaming smiles, laughters, tears...
Sometimes... Sometimes, I wanna wake up in somebody`s arms and ask him:
"Baby, is it already morning?"
And to receive such an answer:
"No, no. Get back to sleep, baby. I don`t wanna wake up... I wanna lay all day long in bed, lingering on the smell of your skin..."
And to reply with a sleepy smile instead of any audible line.
Besides, I`d have plenty of reasons to smile. One of them: because I could see his sleepy smile and stare at his lips, bearly seeing anything behind my heavy eyelids...
Another reason: because he was perfectly innocent in his attempt to lie me:
"Baby, is it already morning?" - "No, no. Get back to sleep, baby."
He was perfectly innocent with his lie, he was nothing more than a beautiful liar under the confuse light of the morning.
Sometimes... Sometimes, I have this image in my mind and I don`t wanna wake up. I order my eyes to stay shut and surprisingly, they usually obey. This is due to the fact that I don`t wanna lose his image... It is printed on the interior side of my eyelids and if I open my eyes... I have the fear that my colourful tale will slowly fade to grey.
My pillows, my sheets, my bed itself... It seems that - in spite of the fact that love always tends to fade away, many moments of pure happiness are bedshaped :)
Because while we`re in bed... I can touch his lips with my finger tips, I can touch his eyelids with my lips... I can play in his dark long hair with my sleepy fingers...
"Good morning, baby. It`s time for us to have a cup of tea :)"
And there`s this lovely scent of warm jasmine tea coming from another room...

"(...) I could remember anything, whether it happened or not." (M.B.)

I guess i just remembered this story, whether it has actually happened or not...

(My last line on this post:
I can`t figure it out... Whose voice is it on this blog entry... Is it the child inside me - who likes to smile while playing - or the woman inside - who likes to dare while smiling?)

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