"Love to watch you sing" (Moby)

I saw me. So unexpectedly.
I watched as I moved, trying to be graceful, inventing movements that wasn’t supposed to exist. But, still, I kept going.
I watched. I didn’t want to take my eyes of it. As if something enthusiastic would erupt.
Swinging through it, balancing in the ropes that gently carried me, just feeling something. At least feeling the time passing by, as a gentle swinger.
I waved myself backwards, nothing happened, nothing could be replaced or restored.
I dragged myself to the point were I started, nothing was left for me there, not even by me. Everything had moved on. All the objects, that were now just empty souvenirs of some forgotten passage, slid through my fingers without even the slightest sense of pleasure or even touch, just empty drawings that stood there to remind me of what I had missed.
I created a tiny little picture of all those objects. I hanged it in the bottom of my incredible empty navy blue room.
I lay down now.