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Everything is so meaningless. Look at the pavement: who has decided to build it like that? When I was born there were pavements everywhere; and now there are less of them, but the ones that still exist look the same as they did when I was a kid. Things around the pavement have changed a lot, but not the pavement itself. I wonder why. I hope no one can see I am wondering: I am wearing a nice smile, one that I have practiced for months, one that I crafted to keep the questions away. Not many people would feel brave enough to question anyone or anything anyway, but if they do, they are sure to look past me.

My wristband vibrates in such a particular way: I don’t need to look at it to know it’s my mother. I take my index finger to my ear and try my best not to roll my eyes: “Oh, hello!”, I say.

‘Why haven’t you posted anything today, Ollie?’ her voice sounds concerned.

‘What?’ I answer, hoping that she will enlighten me about something I understand quite well — but I could use the spare seconds to come up with a better response.

‘Oh, don’t act like you don’t know. You haven’t posted a single thing today, and it’s already past lunchtime! Are you okay?’

No, as a matter of fact, I am not okay: but it’s not what people mean when they ask you that, not anymore. Sometimes I feel like no one has ever meant that, to begin with. No, they mean “Are your bowels moving correctly?” or “Has your hair fallen?” or “Did you hurt your knee?”; and mother knows better than to ask me whether I am feeling fine, as the post-human being I am [someone could be listening in…]. Sometimes I wonder if she means both things: she was a psychiatrist, after all. Did she really forget everything she knew, or did she accept that all she knew was wrong? I am taking too long to answer, and I hear “Ollie? Don’t you dare ignore me, I will look you up!” — and I know she would: there’s a camera right in front of me, staring at me from the beige façade. What a stupid place in which to take a call.

‘Yes, I am okay.’

‘Well, then the question remains. Why haven’t you posted anything today? Is it raining over there? Even if it is, that could make for a great photo, you know.’

It’s not raining. It’s a beautiful day, as a matter of fact. I sat on a bench on the park earlier, pretending to eat my lunch [pretending, because I was not hungry, but I needed a reason to be there]. I looked at the cloudless azure sky. It was breathtaking. I couldn’t be seen looking at it for too long: I took my mobile and fitted the huge lenses I had gotten for Christmas and again I pretended. Now I faked photographing the sky [it is, after all, a mundane thing to do] and it was such a bore. I wanted to see it completely: I wanted to pretend, yes, but that there were no skyscrapers around me: I wanted to pretend it was just me and the sky. This other kind of acting got me a bit out of the moment, but I persevered: I sat there, gadget in hand, and I made as if I were looking at the sky through my mobile’s blue-light screen.

Why didn’t I just take a fucking picture? That would have been much easier.

(cerulean)

The featuring image is a still taken from one of Glitchpaste‘s glitch art pieces. Check it out, it’s quite awesome.

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