Title:	Oneshot - Fenêtre (english)
Date:	December 16, 2008 at 7:15 pm
Security:	public
Music:	Wishing you were somehow here again - Phantom of the Opera OST
Mood:	calm

In the distance, the mountain laughed at me. In my twisted and guilt-drowned mind I could hear its eternal low voice, laughing. Decorated with snow in its highest peak, surrounded with small houses and big industries at its sides.

In this cold autumn night, I couldn’t avoid the whisper of his laughter in the wind that crept through my open window and kept caressing my naked skin, partly illuminated by the moon that stood high behind that cynic mountain.

The maple, red as blood, moved at the rhythm of the wind beyond my windowsill. Underneath, a little pond was being covered with its dead leaves, almost dissolving their color in the reflection of the eternal moon and its companion, the mountain.

The chant of the bleeding maple enclosed the cynic laughter of that high mound in the horizon.

It was as though the wind was just an instrument for everything that stood beyond my window.

The weeping of an old tree that creaked with the gentler blow, the bells of the bamboo leaves invisibles for me, the sweet beat of the dead leaves that danced in the wind somewhere underneath my vision, the knocks of a lost branch near the window at my back.

With each melody intoned, the guilt hit my chest… merciless.

I left you.

I left you behind a thousand kilometers, behind five wide mountains as this, behind millions of bleeding maples.

Maybe the same moon crept through your window, in your elegant apartment full of expensive objects, cooling the side of the bed that belongs… belonged… or at least hoped to belong to me.

Maybe you could see, dissolved in the thousand fluorescent lamps of the city, one of the million stars that crossed the immense sky showed before me.

But surely this night, between melody and rhythm of the nature with me, and noise and disorder in the created world with you, you didn’t feel the same guilt that I felt.

Surely, no matter how many mountains may separate us now or how many maples bleed between us… you won’t even remember my presence, or cry my absence.

And you won’t hear the weeping of the river in the distance, fighting against the cold that tried to stop it, freezing its flow, stopping its tears.

And the laughter of the mountain, and the death of the maple, and the silence of the night will be mine and only mine. Just like my guilt, and my one-sided feelings.

And the twinkling stars, and the pale moon, and my broken heart will be mine and no other.

Because behind this window, there’s only one person… alone, guilty, aching and nostalgic, and it only belongs to himself.

Until the wind takes pity on this wandering soul and invites it to the choir of the night and it laughs along with the wise mountain… beyond the horizon.

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