© Sonja Lekovic 2020, all rights reserved

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The end of the world

The end of the world

 

It’s a privilege to die in the end of the world. We are the last generation of humans. The evolution has come to us. After we’re gone there will be nothing left. A perfect death for control freaks.

 

I look up into the sky. It’s a peaceful sunny day. I always knew it would be in the summertime. The beginning of endless summer. Up there on one of the balconies a woman is slowly hanging laundry. Optimism or stupidity, I wonder. Or perhaps the greatest wisdom.

 

Freedom from consequences is in the air, but to few of us it makes no real difference. We know the consequences of an act are not in the future, they are intrinsic to the act itself. What comes later are just reflections in reality of our state of mind. True consequences are momentary.

 

I wonder where you are. I know that you’re perfectly calm. And I know now that I never really needed anything more than that. I like to imagine we’ll die in the exact same moment. As one.

 

There’s nothing left to do except hope for a spectacular view. I’m texting my photographer friend: “Are you going to shoot it?”. “Isn’t it a bit pointless?” he replies. And I think to myself: “As pointless as it ever was.”

© Sonja Lekovic

Wasting my breath

 

Perhaps I’m wasting my breath introducing myself to you.

Most likely.

Clearly it is only in brief moments of coincidence that I seem to exist in your world.

At most other times I appear to be invisible.

Inexistent.

At this point I would gladly forget that I love you.

If only our bodies didn’t smell the same.

It would be much easier.

 

I don’t need you to change my flat tire.

I don’t need you around the house.

I don’t need you to breathe next to me in the night.

I don’t need you to make me beautiful or to make me smile.

I don’t need you for sex.

I don’t even need you to love me.

 

I only need you to stop the time.

 

Perhaps I’m wasting my breath introducing myself to you.

But I just can’t find anything I would rather do.

 

© Sonja Lekovic

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