Coming home and I am again, alone. But this is one of the rare days where I’ve came to visit at such an early hour— mid afternoon.

I don’t feel alone. I feel watched and spoken to— by a voice whose language I know not of. I sense life.

Everything is in a deep sleep. I felt that when I observed the rays that stayed on the white-tiled kitchen walls and the towels and laundry hung motionless.

Everything is frozen and I adored that feeling of stasis. I want it badly. I felt that I’ve seen something I shouldn’t have. And wished something I shouldn’t.

I wish I could find the way to join them without having do anything actively. I want to be an inanimate object. Will you please grant me that.

Can I be a wallpaper?

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