His bedroom sat five shelters high above Rainbow. A window to the world. He would shove his arms through the slated wood and light a cigarette (Mr Avedias finest). Sunrise reminded him of Abia. Calming, sensually sweet but by nature naive, always posing questions and always desiring answers.
Tariq had lived life long enough to know that not all questions were answered. Why was pana with seeds and nutmeg cheaper than plain bread? How did they fit those tiny boats in tiny bottles? Why is it that we hurt most those we love?
Before bright light awoke the world Tariq would feel most settled. A population silenced in slumber, this was his dreaming hour. His thoughts free to run and all possibilities unrestrained. The golden hues quietened his internal quarrels, blinded his pride and flooded his ego. Only the days tasks lay before him, which he had learned to be a lot easier for a man lightened of such terminal traits.
This morning, the sky rose in blackened tones and reality dawned upon Tariq. His eyes dipped into a murky pit of purple his thoughts would not settle, and he found no ease. He had known this day would come, when explanation would surpass him and instead, the complexity of change would attain a voice all of it’s own. His own held at ransom.
Deep in his chest he could feel it, rising and falling with urge to burst out and duty to stay hidden. A secret he had kept, a truth he had buried.
© elenaxtina.com, 2015 in Skies over A Shanty Town