Barefoot

    Info











Story of a person who wants to be a stone


Natsumi Sakai
16th February 2023




Going to Pick Glass

When I am sitting alone, an oval of glass appears around the chest and a beautiful vacuum can be seen inside. I think that because of this vacuum tube, I can continue living.

I am washing the dishes in the morning before the sun, and I notice, there is wind.

It is not cold.

It is not a real wind, but something like a wind, something clear.

I like being alone in this dim time.

I was told, to try to remember. But I couldn’t remember anything, no matter how hard I tried. You’ve been once through though, said that what went between the shadows.

My feet feel strange.

I want to hear your opinion of the thing that is similar to glass. Cold, hard, thin. It is transparent. These characteristics are like glass, but as it cannot exist in reality, it is probably not glass. In addition, the function is different. It is meant to keep the vacuum (again, something like a vacuum).

The night that came to give a greeting, was a little aloof and I also became nervous. You have come to pick glass, then over here, please. You have not let anyone else in before me, have you, that is good since you are picking glass.

Thin and made slowly, they could not be touched without the same slowness. Some people call them eggs, yes, glass or eggs it really does not matter though. The night speaks in a low voice. Well, it is quite difficult to even touch them, they will not break easily. Time has no relation to this place so do stay as long as you like.

I could not remember anything so I was completely lost. No matter what, it felt like standing on a linoleum floor and I could not find any leads. The body that can’t even wait started to feel the cold and especially around the neck, it hardened. Hearing familiar voices and words, I think why such things, I want to hear more sounds, as I sit.

Things don’t happen all of a sudden. Like how the edge of a cloth flows down slowly, I wait for something, repeating that movement, as if tracing would cause something to jump out.

In the flow that is strange and unclear, I met something strange and unclear. As unclear as it was, it was clear on the fact that it existed, and it was there. Strong drowsiness overcame and I could no longer keep my eyes open.

I opened my eyes and the body was lighter but still sleepy. I would be able to move for a while but I will fall asleep soon again. If time does not interrupt, it will be alright the way it is. Stopping, moving, and repeating it again. As soon as I woke up, some words spilled. They were barely able to form a shape but they became a call. To whom is it for, I wonder, looking at the tangled and hopeless words. Will they form another shape if I left them there?

I was trying a few times, to make a container. I thought it will be alright as long as the middle is sunken, and made some trials. As long as there is an open space. An emptiness.

Slowly, slowly, it disappears. Like it is flickering, it can sometimes be seen and sometimes not. Behind the back, it follows like a shadow but it refuses to be formed. So then, now I walk dragging my feet wherever I go. What should I have done?

Eggs, eggs, eggs, I chat as I move my hands. I move as if I were touching a thin veil. It is similar to the movement of touching something that is beautifully crafted. The awe and happiness appear in the fingers, and maybe there is no other option than to praise it in such a way. But, something feels different. If I could be something a little more cold.

Being hardened and unmoveable and becoming cold is different. Something more like melting into the coldness of the surroundings.

Alone, alone.

Where is the place that I do not think of, is not thought of?

It is important that it is not thought of – it is never apart so it is not thought of, and it is forgotten so it is not thought of.

Where did it go?

-

Next, it was raining.

The rain and wind hit something and there is a sound.

Something hollow, someplace empty. A part of me searches for it, for something that is only found there, while almost disappearing. It is actually impossible to enter such hollowness and so it almost disappears.

If I could be with someone, would I have chosen that? Was it possible to come close to the hollow and stare into it?

When the rolling stones make us recall the breath of the earth, I think that I need to hurry and run away from words, only to fall back on them. If I didn’t need words I might have been able to be with that person, but such a person may no longer be another.

The curve of the glass or the egg creates a smooth reflection and watching it makes me think that the other things are also becoming round. There is quite a number, in the sight, they are repeated and so its reproductivity must be so high. I imagined a light rolling sound and I rethink that it probably isn’t such a sound.

What did the night say?

I want to meet the rock. What would the rock say. Or would the rock say nothing?

-

I try drawing a circle. I try stepping inside. Why are circles repeated so much? Some are not perfect circles. As long as it is a closed shape, it looks good enough. In the end, probably a division is needed, for it to prove its existence. Existences don’t say anything. They only claim their existence with their boundaries.

Probably, unenterable boundaries exist everywhere, and by recognizing them I might be shocked by their lack of movement.

What would the rock say?

-

I was remembering the reflection of the water on a sunny day. I was thinking, only if there is more time. I was watching time as if I was watching thin strings dangling.

Facing the glass, it felt like the coldness was reaching the feet, so I stopped them.

I thought I heard a voice asking, would it be alright to disappear?




-sleep.