Friday, August 5, 2011

Live forever

Another week, another seven days that just pass by outside these prison walls. I hardly notice time when I'm alone, but the house still smells of oak and vanilla. Occasionally I put on one of mother's silk blouses and pretend I'm famous, but no one is there to see me so I undress again. From the balcony I can see all the work that has to be done in the garden, the work Hernan is supposed to do. I close the doors and the curtains behind me and concentrate on breathing.

The lush flowers in mother's bedroom window never die because they're made of plastic.

7 comments:

  1. are those plastic flowers a symbol for something else? i wonder. lovely photo, avy.

    http://honeybeelane.blogspot.com/

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  2. Haha!I absolutely loove your blog name!=D

    Nice blog, following you now.

    Love,

    Paula.

    http://getoffmyclouddarling.blogspot.com

    ReplyDelete
  3. Same thoughts as Teddi,are those plastic flowers a symbol?
    Lovely post Avy

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  4. Your words are so beautiful!
    :)

    http://60smodfox.blogspot.com/

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  5. this is so soft and lovely

    LuvLux
    xxx

    ReplyDelete
  6. Your writing is something of an enigma, so old and wise and so young and Beautiful.

    ReplyDelete

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