You’re walking in a long, deep corridor.
No windows or doors around. The light comes from above.
You keep walking forward.
Hanging on the walls, coloured pictures you drew as a child.
Undefined lines and shapes in a language you can’t be certain if you understand
or if you ever did.
They are moving as you move,
the floor is changing forms.
A sticky material comes out of your body.
The place smells rotten.
You are afraid, but you are still walking.
She will come, and She will take your hand.
You will hold Hers, tight. She will listen to your breathing.
It’s fast, and sharp.
Your hands are sweaty. You tighten your grip in Hers.
You feel ashamed.
You let your hands slip and your palm escapes its shield.
You are alone. Naked.
Her presence reminds you of your loneliness.
She turns her head to face you – Oh Lord! How beautiful She is.
Her eyes looking somewhere behind you.
“The Lady, she has been waiting for you”, She finally says and leaves towards the Light.
She belongs to the Light.
The Light belongs to Her.
She disappears.
You are walking in a long, deep corridor.
There are no Lights.
A sticky material comes out of your body, glowing in the dark.
Your hands are sweaty. They are searching for Hers.
The Lady; She has been waiting.
(took my shot in translating something I wrote back in 2013)
Depressive Optimist 