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Written by Nunyo Bidness
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Thursday, 06 March 2008 |
The way he knew it, he started at the bottom of a shallow ocean. He swam until one day he slithered up the beach. After getting land legs, he went up into the trees. Then he came back down and was taught in a room about how he got to that room, and so the cycle repeats. What part made him talk, when he could have easily not spoken, he wondered.
But now, he felt like walking back down the beach, or at least giving it a pretty good look. The ocean was a soothing place, even if it wasn't an exciting one. Diving underwater, like one of the other billions of fish, solved about every problem there was. His voice would turn into bubbles. It was about that way now anyway.
More of a creak then bubbles. Bubbles could be seen, and the way they floated like balloons to the surface was interesting, held your eye for a second even if it was gone a second later. He was definitely a creak. It happened and there wasn't much to say about it. Made it easy to put it in the back of your mind. Like a knee popping in the morning. But dark mornings, when you're looking for something to snap, that simple pop of a knee could do it. It was a dark morning. I popped the knee.
Well, I thought I did. Blood doesn't rush to the face like that unless you did. You don't recline into the chair, shoulder-deep, unless you did. The silence that yells so much doesn't come, unless you did. It was all there. I did. I tried. I was wrong. Really wrong. The kind of wrong that makes you wonder where you've been when everyone else heard about it. You can't unring a bell, so I figure I'll keep that in mind. I guess the only type of people I want to impress are the ones that have that in mind, too. So it goes.
Copyright 2008 Nunyo Bidness
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