As Meeko and I balance on the branch that points to the ringing bells of the church like the accusing finger of a witch, Hachikō continues to snap at the fly buzzing about his nose. The claws on his little paws dig into the bark of the branch, with his tail brushing the green leaves that serenade us the same way the sunflowers serenaded Van Gogh as he once wept in a fit of despair begging for the forgiveness of his God. I don’t know this for a fact, and yet something in the air tells me this indeed happened, and many times, at that. God was in every one of his paintings—in every brushstroke. His mystical, omnipotent presence as present as the overwhelming air of melancholy that reaches out from each lonesome canvas he ever poured his heart and soul into. I’ve seen a few of them in real life, in London galleries from a time in my university days when I was in search of proof that I wasn’t the only one of my kind. The paintings of his I stumbled across made me feel sad. Like I was reading a beautiful suicide note from someone who had tried to be their best in a world that couldn’t care less. Reminiscing as I do, the smell of fried chicken billowing out of the restaurants below makes way for the aroma of scorched engine oil, and then the sweet, giddy highs of marzipan. Almost losing my footing, my eyes linger on the rolling horizon of rooftops and leafy trees the same as this one, and for a second, the strings I’m comprised of feel connected to the strings of everything and everyone else. From Meeko to Hachikō to the remains of Van Gogh as he rolls in his grave someplace in Auvers-sur-Oise. It’s a sad and beautiful thing. To think that even when I’m gone, I’ll still be here, at one with the universe and all the small miracles that exist in between the devil and the deep blue sea.
X and I: A Novel and A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon UK
X and I: A Novel and A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon US
“To think that even when I’m gone, I’ll still be here, at one with the universe and all the small miracles that exist in between the devil and the deep blue sea.” o.m.g. that ended with a bang. I’m so glad you exist.
Thank you! What kindness you show me 🙂 I’m glad we both exist 🙂
Like I was reading a beautiful suicide note from someone who had tried to be their best in a world that couldn’t care less: You reminded me of the suicide note written by one of my favourite poets, Kostas Karyotakis. I’m not sure it’s beautiful, but it’s prophetic in a way. Surprisingly humorous too.
As morbid as it sounds, I shall now seek his note out. I’ve never before heard of him. I’m sure it will be an eye opener. Thank you.
Not morbid at all. And I’m not sure it’s going to be an eye-opener. But he believed more people would be feeling like him in the coming centuries. Judging from the situation of Greece then (the twenties) and a few years ago, he was right.
There’s a collection of his work I’ve found on Amazon. I’ve added it to my cart and will purchase come payday. If people such as him were dismayed at the state of the world back then, god knows what they’d think if they were alive today..
Oh, they’d be delighted!
At his time, there was WWI, the Balkan Wars, the destruction of Asia Minor… Who needs more?
I hope you’ll enjoy his poetry. I’ve read Preveza (one of my favourites) in English, but wasn’t very happy with the translation.
Once I pick up my copy, I shall share which one it is with you via Facebook. I’ve no idea what the translation will be like. Hopefully it will do his words justice.
At the same time, I shall order a copy of ‘Spider’ by Parrick McGrath. It comes highly recommended. Apparently David Cronenberg adapted it into a movie, of which I’m yet to see.
I haven’t heard of it, I’ll look it up. Thank you!
Did you like Momo?
I haven’t started it yet. I know, I’m terrible! I’ve got a pile of books to read that grows every week.
Ha ha! I started reading it again when you bought it. But I never finished it. I was ashamed to tell you 🙂
I think my sense of shame is greater 😉
Let’s call it quits 🙂
Haha! Deal 🙂