Statues

O world, the spoon of the world's sloshing through my blood. The knives of the horizon worry my thoughts like a rebellion of crows. Croak, my friend. I'm frightened.
Croak.
Another shellfish post. The blog was not meant to be a place where shellfish would thrive, but alas things do not always turn out as we wish them to.

I'm a human, after all. All the problem lies there. I tried to push the questions away. But humans are questions, each of them. I too am a question.
Like so many, merlin is lost.
"What have you done?" she longs to shout, lie down in the grass and forget about everything. Yes, what have I done?
The future. It does no even exist and here we are. Tormenting ourselves with it. When I think about it, the old fears rise again and I want to flee.
This is all so very silly, that I should only slap myself and go play the piano.
The piano.
The piano.
The piano is what first whispered to me : what have you done?
With the school I'm doing this year, I can scarcely play the piano. What, 2 hours in the week, plus 5 hours or so the week-ends. The problem is that merlin only exists when she plays the piano. Otherwise she fades, becomes a ghost a wretch.
My fingers feel so dirty, so clumsy. Should have I tried to become a pianist? Damn, if I had tried I would be a beggar in the street now. A pianist should be gifted.
Next Saturday, there's the piano concert. I'm looking forward to it, and working working. But tonight it feels like i'm not going to manage it. Bleak spirit? I swear I did not take any Elfbark.
I love the piano and my piano teacher. Seeing them both so little isn't easy. I'm just at the edges of their world.
I'm always on the threshold of everything. (oh poor deprived lad...girl !, in my case)
Now I'm scared by the huge mountain of homework that's waiting for me. And again it seems like i won't be able to do it. I wonder : was I right to do this school? What should have done? Go and study Icelandic, Norwegian and Swedish? Study biology? Photography?

Now, now, stop the whining. You exist, and look at what you're doing with the seconds that have been given to you?
You thought yourself strong, but after all you're even frailer than a window.
All is about snow.
Snow. To live is to accept the snow that lies in us, in the world. Even if it's painful to watch the snowflakes melt on our own skin.
It isn't a ghost you should become, but the keeper of the snowflakes of the world. Not the transparency, but the eyes who will remember each flake, each glow of a smile.
But what does the world need of a snowflake keeper?

[END OF SHELLFISH POST]