the center of the world


I bursted into tears yesterday.

Completely alone, I bent in two and started crying.

They were not happy nor sad tears. They came from somewhere else.

Standing in the middle of an abandoned baroque triangular prism. Looking around at the space, blinded by the winter light getting through the windows, I suddenly realized the walls were painted with beautiful landscapes. The misted images appeared from nowhere and hit me like they were made of toxic gas.

They called on me an emotion that came up through the stomach to the brain like a train, and I just started sobbing.

I don’t understand why it happened, but I know the tears came from the center of the world.