9:19pm December 2, 2014

“

I was not able to talk when I was two or three years old. My stories were not meant for human ears. Human ears cannot hear anything other than sounds. But not my ears, as I believed then. And not the ears of the mirror either. I believed that if you cared enough to listen, you could hear the sky and earth speaking to each other in the language of blue and brown. And I believed that if you cared enough to listen, you could hear the walls of the room you were in, telling the floor not to stare at them, while the floor wondered, “Where should I look?”

A language of white and red. The white of the walls and the red of the painted cement floor. The mirror heard everything. I knew that the mirror heard everything because only when I stood in front of it could I hear the walls and floor talk. Otherwise, why should I stand in front of it and wait for the open window to sing to the walls in the color of air? Only after I heard the silent voices, could I tell my story to the mirror. Stories with sounds of blue, white, red, or brown. Or stories with the colors of air.

”

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