higad

04/8/11

*

  

 

this is for a boy who asks a lot about innovation, house curtains and birds.

for the boy who draw snow balls and tiny human eyes on torn notebooks- associate them with seasons and races

and geography of dreamers and realists clashing, tangling, untangling, whirling, unraveling a child’s piece of hope…

that kind of world that is here- if it’s made of soil, students and sandstorms or a cliff with a wooden platform on its edge.

this is for a boy who does not fancy new things.

he collects old oil funnels, he reads old notes of 5-year old penmanship.

to a boy who cries over his wilting plants, who pinpoints phone-shaped clouds and who asks a lot about bath tubs.

this is for the boy who owns an old stove at the backyard- where he fries eggs with two of his kiddie assistants.

 

this is for that same boy who has watched the sky while it stood still 

while the birds frolic , fly into Us and Vs and crypt-

this is for him who reminds me of a boy 

who loved his old oversized slippers,

the shape of stored fat 

intricacies of life

and

someone

who

spends

aimless

moments

touching 

his

e

y

e

l

a

s

h

e

s

 

because 

they felt like

 

feathers.

 

.