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September 09, 2005
Sphere of silence
A dark, silent sphere, with its surface totally covered in mist. Rather perfectly-shaped round substance. You take it and you watch your hand prints remaining on the sphere. Shallow forms of your hands, bypassed the missed, and have the signs of warmth and red glow in the bottom of the small canyons. You touch the thing some more and witness the art your touch creates. The forms are losing its shape with time and in short time the sphere is round, dark and cold again. You are tempted to experiment, to temper it, and so you do, you draw shapes that slowly reset to the surface of its rest. You push it deeper and find pleasant warmth underneath the cold surface. And the shape left by your hands no longer resembles that shallowness of your touches. Bu this impact as well, slowly recovers and within few moments the sphere regains its shape. After a while you find this attraction boring due to that property of always recovering. You leave the sphere where you found it and go on with your life.
But the surface curtains the wonderland inside. There is a light line, distorted so that it reminds rather a seismograph then a thread. It swings around the inner sphere, witnessing everything that can be seen trough it at the point where the tread touches the surface. It is invisible from the surface but the line sees it all. It goes through the mountains left by those who tempered with the surface. The shallow fingerprints take minutes to recover, the deep pushes take years to reset. There are mountains decades old inside the sphere, left by some unaware bystander. There are mountains few minutes old left by you. The thread will not be done with them in next few months – that is for certain.
But there will never, ever be a sound in this system.
Posted by deme at September 9, 2005 10:42 AM