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| ЛЁША \ LJOSHA |
Not clear to him how long it's been amidst these balls. One at a time is smooth to handle: Light in weight, as well as not too big to be thrown away, as boredom would start to propel his mind after a time of 4 firm but squeaky seconds.
His mind via mine. But this is different. Too many to comprehend. Too unexpected. Glittering minds as many as balls, we used to not mind. An organized attack as they arrange themselves around him. Me is one of them. My now missing me might be his fear. He seeps down to a familiar location, nevertheless, like gasoline in black soil. Since hell is a region in us, triggered by the fall, shrill sounds easily accompany him either way. Crazy shrieks that stab through his current inability to see. The surface of those mangling, blown up dots chafe his eyes; one was his mother & mine, who is no more.
Suddenly, something grabs me; the one who threw me. Didn't he hear me? I screamed in this infernal pool of balls, not far from quicksand boasting out my throat. Or his throat? Doesn't matter, but why now? The pull almost dislocates my shoulder, which leaves me unfulfilled. Were the borders that chisel his senses made of stone; to rub against them, it at least would let them shine like particles ignited.
I can't help but imagine Ljosha's spirit to be many violent streams of wood sawings at once, letting calm and peace just rarely govern his states. Rather the anxiety caused by profound friction in his soul & body acts ruthlessly upon his condition. [The nurses tranquilize the living shit out of him, to silence his screaming]
I hold crying Ljosha in my arms, he holds on to me like a soon to be extinct koala & we walk back to room 29.
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