mimesis
Nadine Tralala.

Leaves. Yeah, leaves. Hanging there. Like forgotten promises. Yellow mostly. Some brown, crackling at the edges. Like old pix. The wind. Always the wind. Whistling through the branches. A lullaby. Ripping them loose. No ceremony. Just…gone.

Then there’s…her. Don’t know her. Don’t need to. Just another face in the crowd. Another pair of hands. Reaching out. Touching. Picking. A leaf. Why that one? Why any of them? Doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

The leaf. It’s already gone, really. Before the wind, before her fingers. It was gone the moment it turned yellow. The moment the sap stopped flowing. Just a matter of time. Like everything.

Wind. Fingers. Rain. Doesn’t change a goddamn thing. It’s all the same. A push. A touch. A drop. Then dirt. Always the dirt. Waiting.

The wind howls. She touches. The leaf falls. Inside. Outside. Doesn’t matter where. It’s all inside, anyway. This…emptiness. This…knowing. That it all just keeps going. The wind. The leaves. The…everything. Just keeps going. Until it doesn’t.

Just dirt. And the wind. And…nothing.

Veinte.
ONCE YOU CARE
YOU’RE
FUCKED