The Triangle

Shiroi is listening so very hard. He is straining his inner ear, trying to hear something. He doesn’t understand this. These sounds may not really be there. They may come from inside of him, lurching forward and bursting on impact with the real world. Shiroi can’t hear inside himself. He strains his ear anyway. His inner ear is a triangle of senses, tingling away. This triangle is sharp and cunning. In fact, this triangle is everything. Shiroi slows its movements-he can’t track the sound. But it was there. He doesn’t understand this. He has such a strange lack of command over the things that are inside him. He isn’t able to direct them anymore. He is longing for them to obey, to come into the sweet security of his control. The triangle starts spinning again. The sounds are back. Shiroi can’t detect what they may be, but they are definitely coming now. He still can’t figure out where they are coming from. Are they more oddities escaping his control? Something coming from inside him? Or are they just the everyday oddities that are thrown at him from the outside world?
Maybe both.
If he applies his logic, his answer is there. He is everything. These sounds are a piece of everything. Consciousness shouldn’t be contorted this way, but this twisting is the way he likes it. Shiroi should really be listening. He spins his triangle as fast as he can; razors! It costs so much to use it this way, but Shiroi has never been discouraged by this. It always brings the answers closer, and that is worth it. The sounds are so close, and Shiroi now understands that they weren’t just sounds-they were everything. It wasn’t him. They aren’t just noise. When there is no other way of seeing them, they have to be heard. Now that they’re so close, it seems Shiroi can see them. And such marvellous forms they take on. The triangle screams to a halt and suddenly Shiroi doesn’t need it anymore. He can feel it again, it belongs to him. It is showing him. Such colourful spectacles that he always forgets in the end. This is the way it always is. It is such a magnificent thing, so rare. It gratifies Shiroi such that he is crying now. The moment when understanding comes, so does Shiroi. And it is from his mouth that the words come, but it isn’t himself he is hearing.

You are a landscape and I walk across the landscape I feel my way across you and I tiptoe on the landscape I set down on you and live within you the landscape
!


The triangle is screaming
and Shiroi is seeing it again.


Shiroi is crying again, he is writhing, he is laughing aloud. He is stretching to another place, a sweet haven, a void, such a dark pleasure, such a mental explosion, such a physical passion, so indecent, so alive, he is feeling it now. So alive. He really is everything now. Everything is in him, he is in everything. It is here now, fast and hard because now he knows. So loud, so close and as always, over so soon. It’s moving away now and he is losing his grip, he is slowing. It is over again. Too soon.






So Shiroi is back where he started, and he is so tired.




Dämmerung
Someone touched him once. Shiroi was only young in mind, unable to understand what it had meant. It wasn’t that long ago, but for all the changes he’d braved it may as well have been a million years ago. He had only been slightly aware of where his triangle was leading him and he was as close to vulnerable as Shiroi could get. He had been on his way to something. He had been setting out a path for the first time, albeit such an erratic one and someone had decided to join him. Nobody had ever tried this before, and nobody had ever since. They had been somewhere in the early morning and his companion had decided to divert and plot a new course. Shiroi had been in a different state then, and he couldn’t quite grasp what had happened. But in the years since it had come back to him and every time he was able to understand a little more. This memory was one that matured in time. Whenever it woke him, he felt something new as if he had been operating in a different timeline and had only just begun feeling it. It was all in the past now. Shiroi couldn’t remember these days what had happened to his companion. In his memories, one day he was there and then he wasn’t. Shiroi didn’t remember having asked him any questions or even having had an opinion, but maybe it wouldn’t have done any good anyway. He remembered him having said something. Only one thing. I feel my way across you the landscape. Shiroi couldn’t remember what he had thought of it, he had an idea that his friend had been the same as him. That maybe he had been using his voice to direct the triangle. Shiroi had eventually abandoned this idea. His triangle couldn’t be directed by his voice anymore. He just let it go. That original path had lead on and on and Shiroi was still loyally following it. He was creating and following only a step behind. It never occurred to him that the triangle had been a little slower and smoother back then. It was younger. He had never wondered what happened to the satiny movement he had before. Things were a little jagged and sharper now. If it had occurred to him he wouldn’t have worried anyway. Sharp was good. Maybe satin and silk used to have the power, but things change and sharp is delicious. The smooth times were so very comforting. Back then, it was something to walk on. A landscape. Something they had laid out. Now the razor triangle was gratifying in a different way. In a spinning, grating way. The mutilation of the soul can be such a pleasurable thing. If Shiroi had thought of any of this he might have understood better. But Shiroi didn’t, and he won’t. He will continue across the landscape. He will cry again, and he will understand for a moment more before it escapes again. But, true to his nature, he will fall back on his razor sharp triangle, catching up with time in whichever way it directs him.