Perfume bottles.
There are is one large window taking up the entire of the wall. It is made up of three different panes each pane divided by white plastic. Outside the window a storm is raging, a cherry tree sways in the wind almost peacefully. The sky is pink becoming a turquoise where the window pane cuts away your vision. The blossoms on the cherry tree are in bloom and so excessively big that the thin, ash black branches look out of proportion.On the window frame that holds the view to this storm are perfume bottles, lined up next to each other. Each one a unique design, expensive glass bottles with jewels resting on their lids; slender tinted plastic bottles, small round containers with images of events and places calved lovingly into their sides. Some bottles have labels pasted over them; bright labels flaunting bold text that hides the bottles content. Other bottles are completely translucent they stand tall up against the glass, cutting into the picture behind them.
Inside each bottle you can see a similar thing, a whirl of changing colors and shapes constantly adapting and striving, the same movement runs in all the bottles. Even the ones with the insides hidden by labels, you can tell its in there twisting and turning.
The bottles emit an over powering smell. The smell in the room is like childhood, like a home you've never been to. Familiar but your not sure why. You don't know its origin, where it belongs in memory. It makes your insides yearn and twist like the perfumes in the bottles. Its the most smell that it makes you want to laugh but at the same time it spills out your throat making you want to howl. It makes you want to tear you hair out and also sing until you are empty. Every time a breath is taken in, all these things hit you together and you reel, crushed by so many sensations. Then sink slowly to the floor.
When you raise your head light is bleeding into the room through the window. The beams become brighter and whiter until they penetrate the perfume bottles. When the light travels through them it changes color.
Dazzled from lights and smell, you stand back and look at the floor where the beams have rested. On the floor is a spectrum of colors mixing and mingling, there are the darkest bleakest shades next to soft tones. They spill into each other and make new colors.
You stare down at the floor, the pattern spreads closer to your feet. You recognize it but you can't understand why, although you keep on desperately trying. Colors are now invading your senses along with the smell. Happiness and sadness spill into each other and mix in your insides.
BOOGIE
posted by Boogie @ 11:37 PM
2 Comments:
very deep joy.
Gawd Naomi I never thought anyone could be sarcastic all the time, but once again you have proved me wrong.
LOL.
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