Author S. K. Nicholas

There’s something in the way her photograph lingers in the back of my mind. It comes alive after several beers while listening to ‘Finally We Are No One‘. Such a mixture of sadness and beauty that remind me of lying in bed as a child imagining what it would be like to die. She must know these things too, for I can read it in the lines around her eyes. The rest are blind to almost everything, but there are still those that see. They’re hidden from view and hiding from the light. They’re delicate like the shadows that used to dance on my bedroom wall with the moon watching over me as I journeyed to the great beyond. How the years pass, yet fear remains the same. Once a small boy afraid of death, now a grown man wary of living. There are poems engraved beneath her eyelids, and whispered truths in each strand of hair that float to me across the ocean. Beauty is not in possession; it’s being in awe of something that can never be tamed. To reflect on a daily basis, and to be thankful for every breath even though you’re still in two minds whether you want to live or die. I wonder how many men Soko has slept with, and grow angry that I’m not one of them. Life can be so cruel, but as long as there’s willingness to see what can’t be seen, there will always be hope. There are no countries and no real cities, only Japanese ballerinas dissolving behind the lens of a camera. There are no memories either, only the traces of what never was. These clocks, they’re always trying to pull me under, but they’ll never get the best of me. Glimpsing precious visions down one avenue after the next, and destined to roam until this heart beats no more.