record of a night too brief – hiromi kawakami
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The cells were gradually forming themselves into shapes—commas, ribbons, balls, all sorts of other weird things—and finally they turned into something that resembled a girl.
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And the night, enveloped by that presence, reached its deepest and darkest state of being, the darkness a kind of truth in itself.
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If I listened carefully, I could hear rustling sounds falling like rain around me. It was the sound of branches growing, and leaves unfurling. The sound was fresher and more vital than the one I had heard from within the girl’s body.
The vegetation surrounding the girl grew thick and luxurious, eventually becoming a forest.
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I had the feeling I was about to remember something I had forgotten. Because it was something I had forgotten, I had no idea what it might be, but it felt as if I was going to remember it any moment now.
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We slept deeply, dreaming our dreams, which rose and burst like bubbles many, many times in the space of the night.
Impresie. Albastru inefabil... 