Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 8)
This whole chapter is written between the lines.
Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 15)
I notice that the TV’s on again. Fuck! Didn’t I just turn that thing off? I search around me for the remote, but can’t find it anywhere. I try shouting at it a couple of times, but there is not even the slightest reaction. O.K. then… I try to focus on the pictures being sent into the room by the ugly black box.
After a couple of seconds I give up. It’s just an endless blur of shifting colours, overlapping, immersing into one another. Has there ever been anything else? Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice tries to tell me there has, but I ignore it. “Ignore it, and it will eventually go away.” Right?
I look around me again, for the remote. Find a pen and throw it at the TV. It bounces off the screen. Nothing happens. Fuck it! I close my eyes, lay back and fall asleep.
The TV’s still on when I wake up. Still with the same endless blur of indistinguishable colours. Damn that thing! Damn it straight to hell! I get up, and noticing that my balance is a bit off key, I fall forward over the table and hit my head on something hard.
Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 25)
25: Atony
“Keep on digging, my son. And you will find it eventually.” He said.
But I’m losing hope. I can see the sunlight fail, and dark night will soon overcome us. I look out of my hole, at the face above me. Always with that shining smile. Always pushing me on to take the next step. Always picking me up when I’ve fallen. I make to find a way to climb up to him, but I can’t find any. I look up again, and he’s gone.
I try to raise my voice, but I can’t make a sound. The effort wares me out and I sink back into the darkness.
Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 7)
7: Knitting
When I get home there’s a girl sitting in my room. In the middle of the floor, feverishly knitting. She doesn’t notice me. She’s so caught up with her work. I ignore her as well. “The best thing is to ignore it,” my friend used to say. “and it will eventually go away.” I wonder what he is doing these days. I haven’t seen him since I moved away from the old country. He used to take my hand and gently say “No.” when I would be throwing paper out the window again. He never liked me doing that. Throwing it on the fire was okay, but not out the window. I always wondered why…
I tear a piece of paper from a drawing of an eye, and write as best I can:
WHERE YOU AT NOW
I want to put in a question-mark, but can’t remember which way it turns. So I leave it out.
I look up at the girl, but she doesn’t seem to notice me. I start ignoring her again. It doesn’t seem to work. I go to bed, but the sound of her energetic knitting keeps me awake!
I wake up, realising that I’d just fallen asleep. I am a bit startled by this discovery. Until I realise that the crying of the knitting-pins has ceased. I turn on the light, and find the girl fast asleep in the corner. Her newly knitted blanket tucked around her.
