The Dream and the Journey > The Director

Page 8 (The Director)
Page 8 (The Director)
2020

In such a moment, one could freeze if not for the fire that burns to escape, such is the mind as it pictures the torture of others. Here, love dared not speak, here as I crept and crawled bared kneed, covered in less than one could hope for, vulnerable, terrified, my right hand tightly gripping a key, to a door, locked, to a store, for all the unwanted, things to be forgotten, like me. I was nameless and all that surrounded me had not grown to listen, in silence, they’d not hear me pass by.
The key fit, crafted for the lock, it’s separation, it’s original loss caused me much consternation. The door would make noise, I was sure of this, only a swiftness would save me.