Tuesday, July 1, 2008
The fan is turning at a miserable pace. Even in the dark, I can the see the blades move. I toss and turn in my bed, clutch at the pillow, waiting for the night to give way. The sweat makes its way from my temples to the back of my ears and down my neck. I am drenched in it. The throat is not parched, it's choked with dry wood. Hot fiery air passes through the nostrils and into the blood stream. The muscles will give way any moment, they can't hold my weight any more. The bones are like the embers of a branch thrown into the bonfire. But I live. I breathe. I hold on for that moment of deliverance. Time has not stalled. But each minute is a time bomb. It passes and it's over. Dead, gone, a nanomicro part of history. And then deliverance. It's a girl! Life goes on.