All original work © 2009 - 2017 Alexey Provolotsky

11 February 2017

DOMESTIC LIFE



In life?

You always have to go forwards, never backwards. And so they were both falling down, a simultaneous free fall that lasted ages. At first, there was a short lovers' fall which dropped them from the ceiling to the unmade bed. It took seconds to complete. By the end of it, they were both melting away in each other's arms. Kissing, caressing, making love. They thought that would be it, really, as this was by far the sweetest thing that had ever happened to either of them. However, it was just the beginning as next they fell through the bed that was in fact filled with a million little cracks a naked eye could never notice.  

Falling through the wooden boards of the floor, they looked like party-goers, either drunk or naked, at the end of a long night. Like Irish dancers betrayed by the feet. And they kept on falling, somewhat ironically, as their fall had to be broken by the wet soil and the bones of the dead. 

Well, not so fast. Because it so happened that they found themselves hanging upside down from a cloud in an overcast sky. And so like a million black suited gentlemen from a painting by Rene Magritte, they rained down upon the city. Swirling in the wind and shocking random citizens wandering along the pavements, lost and found. Barely missing the wild disarray of electric wires that could roast them in a second. Until a house appeared and they fell through the roof that caught them by the concrete block of the ceiling. 

Underneath, at the bottom of the room, there was a bed. The bed was done. Covered with blankets, cold, a hospital bed in all but appearance. And she looked at him and he looked at her and they both wondered if it was worth it anymore. In a life never lived backwards.