Plague

We were walking under a bridge made of thin bamboo, patched up in different angles to create the structure. The first man, in healthy build, went inside the patches when he saw an opening, now directly between the patches of bamboo and the bridge. The second man, old as a mentor, followed as he saw his own opening and signaled me to follow. As the third man, I waited for my opening and saw a hole, where some patches were broken. When I did, some filth went with me and I am dirty. I saw the two heads ahead of me. The second man looked back to me and said that I did not wait for a better opening for the opening where I entered was where garbage are being thrown about.

As we reached the end, the commotion was about to start. The bridge disappeared, the place now sheltered. I did not see the first and second man anymore. I was clearly wearing something inappropriate for myself and for the phenomenon, showing my skin. So I covered it with a jacket. The lights went out as I sat on the edge of the right, the performers began to sing; the spotlight beaming at them. I heard no sounds, saw no faces. I began to move around to search for a better seating and sat beside a usual companion on the left back. A little boy with bright grace came to us and asked innocent questions. I could not deal with him; my subconscious started to create a scenery of me thinking and doing what I should in order to appease this conversation with the little boy. My usual companion stood and went forward to seat nearer the performers. The little boy followed him, giggling. When she came back, the boy was no longer in sight.

I decided to go back to where I was originally seated. I saw the old couple who took my former seat disappeared and I began my walking and took off my jacket, showing my skin. I sat on the edge, the man beside me smiled, signaling that he was enjoying the performance that I could not even comprehend. There was a deafening absence of presence. I put my jacket on again and changed setting.

A pilgrimage-house-like was the front of the way out. Like the usual train station, I saw the bamboo structured bridge again, in face of the cottages. I moved forward and saw beings doing their own whereabouts: sitting; talking; resting. Craving for a drink, I went inside the cottage where the food was served. Beings self-served themselves, as I brood myself as to where the milk and chocolate was. They all died of the plague, contaminated by the food touched by someone I did not know. The commotion was wild, panicked.

Tabula rasa.

I saw a woman coughing while talking to her phone. She took a bubblegum from the cottage, her hands waving through the food. She was the criminal of the plague. I went inside the cottage where the food was served. Beings self-served themselves, as I brood myself as to where the milk and chocolate was. An old helper with her horse humor pointed it out. I found their product bizarre, but pursued, not feeling thirsty. I filled my cup with water, mixed milk with chocolate. Nobody died. The commotion was passive, suffering.