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"They were there in the sky, god-like beings, thin air to my sight, towering and unmoving, a few dozen of them at the most. They seemed to be gathered in a circle, as if observing something. They would stay there for varying periods of time, moving from one to the other, or one would simply vanish, only to not appear again, as if knocked out.
'What are these beings and what are they doing?', I asked myself over and over.
I was on my way home from work, the sky a comfort blanket of hazy blue over the lifeless field of concrete construction. The only sound to be heard was that of the wind blowing through the fields of uncut grass. Not a sign of life could be seen, not even a stray dog. Nothing was alive in that land except for the grass and me.
Strangely, it was as if I had never been born. It was as if all life shut down every night, as if it was just to prepare for that day in the distant future when nature recovered after this disease had passed.
I sometimes wondered what I had seen when I was dragged out of bed, when it was already dark in the dark. No light would come in from the windows. No one would come for me. So out of sheer curiosity and the need to do something with my hands, I would head out for a walk. I would find myself thinking of the wind, of how it would blow through the desolated streets, of how it could tear up fallen trees, of how it could comb through my dirty hair and lift trash up from the streets. The more I would force myself to feel, the more I would feel small and insignificant.
When I was on the streets, I felt like I was on the outside looking in. I was not really there, not really feeling, I was merely existing.
I would see piles of trash of some construction project that never started, or piles of long dead grass from some park that was supposed to be there. I would notice sections of road that were never inhabited by any vehicle. I would see the cracked asphalt and wonder how deep it went. I would see the tall, unoccupied buildings and think to myself that they were not built for me or anyone else. I would see the meaningless streets and walk them. I would walk them for endless hours, until I would eventually make myself stop and return home. In that time, in the dead of darkness, I would feel as if I were the only living thing ever born.
Home, that word. I did not really know what it meant, if it was strictly in a geographical sense, if the times were home, if it was my own house, that I had no control over, or if it was simply here and right now and I was just existing.
As I made my way back through the desolate field of construction, I found myself panting. The sun was setting, and everyone in the world who used to be where I was heading would be heading home. I was a little bit unsure where I was going. I had walked quite some distance but I couldn't tell. Same as I couldn't tell where I was on any days before or after.