I’m looking at my feet.
Feet standing dead still in the water, ice cold.
The sharp little stones are cutting the soles, badly.
Feet are still stoned though, no intention to move, no interest to escape the pain.
Suddenly the wild scream wakes me up, no , not from the dream, just from my bubble, the bubble I live in.
The scream full of life, no, let me correct that, the scream representing life.
The life I do not have. Not because someone took it away but because I gave it away.
I start grabbing my bag, frozen fingers find the camera.
I’m ready to record the last moment of stagnation.
I’m done sitting on the bench.
I will no longer go with the flow.
I will be makeing waves.