three more fragments

by josephzizys

…she had soft full lips that looked cracked but were not, her skin was the colour of milky coffee and her body was slender. She was south east asian and wore her black hair in a bowl cut and fringe. She ate Mi Goreng brand noodles dry as a snack, many years later I thought I saw her in the window of a donut shop, working behind the counter, but I did not speak to her…

…slowly, over days, weeks, even a few months, the symptoms became less strong, I remember the deja vu, the paranoid feeling, disappearing, I think without my even noticing it, only to return for days, then disappear again. After a while I noticed that it disappeared for a little longer each time and came back for a little less long each time, and so I clung to the promise of that, waiting out the storm. Indeed, some elements stayed with me for years, perhaps I am not rid of them even now, my fear of death, that dread as you lie in bed at night, I never had that before the drugs, I haven’t had it for a few months, but when under stress, or whatever, it can come back, it has evolved into a moral thing for me now, an opportunity for practice, but it is still there…

…ho hum, what to say today. Katie searches for canvases while potatoes boil in the kitchen. There is a breeze through the house from our open front door and Elliot naps in his pram after our outing. Katie decides to paint over a piece she does not like before changing her mind, she wanders into the bedroom looking for alternatives. I can hear the Lebanese kids from across the street playing in the distance. It is a fine day, cool for summer, just right. My attendance at the seminars are at an end, I can sleep in tomorrow, I can relax. Today I am thinking that there is no West, and that there certainly is no East. I have no difficulty with the idea that there is no self, nor with the idea of a soul, they are just ideas, and I often have no ideas…

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