01
Alexandra Komsta
my lamp is made of transparent plastic
i watch her illuminating the wooden table, on which someone has left a drawing with a centipede, which also somewhat resembles a dragon, which looks like a kid's drawing. my hands are freezing, but it's nothing. it's a different kind of cold, that sticks only to the surface. i'm a little afraid of the corridors, but this also doesn’t trouble me too much. it's enough to hold a breath for a few seconds and walk faster so that none of the ghosts get inside by chance.
everything here is a bit like home but not really
i can smell the kitchen, even through the stone walls. i think the smell, just like movement works on its own terms, without paying attention to any obstacles. time doesn't care about it either. it locks itself in memory forever, only to be revealed at the least expected moment. hello, i'm still here, we were there together, me and you, remember? in that old cellar, in the orchard, in the house of your friend from elementary school.
if you were here
i could tell you anything, and it would probably be the story of a completely different person. i'd use different words, and different language. i'd make it up on the spot, from bits of what i managed to see during the first few moments of entering the room. it's funny that i'm still writing to you, hoping that maybe someday you'll read it. maybe when i'm gone, or when i'm someone else again, in a new place, or back to old ones. in a different body, but also in the same one. can you see me if i don’t see myself? how much of me is still there, visible, though i feel that a big part collapsed into herself?
yesterday
i left the dryer with laundry, and now i imagine how a whole architecture of sleep must have been strangely transformed by this. in my dream i had a dream from which i was awakened by a ghost, a dark figure in a heavy jacket, and a scarf. he leaned over my mattress, embraced my head and slowly took off a strange shell, a thick and warm cast, resembling freshly set chocolate on a cake, or the ground after rain. i'm not afraid of you, i know it's you. but i didn't expect this visit, i guess i'm never well prepared.