Sunday, March 21, 2010

A New Story

A, four years old, five years old, six, seven, eight, nine...nineteen. B looks at A. B says: Oh damn I didn't notice you were growing up. A looks at B. A says: Fuck you B, you have been growing up too, you are..

B, five years old, six, seven...seventy.

..seventy and you don't even know it. B looks at the mirror. B says: Oh damn I didn't notice now I will wither and die since I'm conscious of my age and doubly conscious of the mortality of man. A looks at the mirror and says: Shut up B, I will take care of you and I will love you and all will seem timeless and beautiful, just wait and feel, but you won't be deluding yourself anymore. B looks at A and says: Oh fuck you A. A grimaces and frowns and cries and smiles. B cannot react otherwise. The mirror is the space between A and B.