"Tabby"
Acrylic and Vinyl Paint on Panel, 35cm x 61cm (14 "x 24"), © 2006 Josh Agle
' But where the hell I put my glasses? '
'We had them on his nose up to a moment ago!'
not giving peace, ransacked the whole house, starting from the desk in perfect disorder creative genius. He moved all the books and stacks of CDs that rose from the floor and shelves as skyscrapers of a globalized city. He looked in the ashtray, he dismounted each drawer - even the underwear - he tried to look between the wheels of the printer and removed from the stove-top pot with boiling water to make sure that there were fallen into. Yes, even looked in the water ... not even spare the cat's cradle, earning a look puzzled and threatening the very mild cat. 'But where are they? Damn! ' and nerves began to jump. He had to deliver as soon as the reports, or could not even pay the rent for the shack in which to stay. And, after all, it was not even Mon Matre de Paris ... In a panic you completely bared in investigating the generous décolletage. His eyes nervously as the ball bounced off of Arkanoid from one object to another, always look down to see where her precious tool could be dropped. His gestures were a reflection of the tension that shook her for her dramatic in those moments: you rub the tip of the nose, biting his lower lip - but only in those brief moments when let go from the cigarette and to better reflect ... too much smoke in the eyes-, mentioned occasionally hysterical tears. Strangely, gave respite to long hair, which was usually the object of its oppression: first-collected in a bun and held together by a gnawed pencil, then tied in a queue hasty -, They moved with slow gestures from one side of the neck twisting fingers. He made off in her the idea that someone ... or something ... had stolen his glasses as he was slightly dozed off in front of the PC screen. It could not be otherwise. They could not have dematerialized into the house and of course there were! Now his mind was raving fantastic theories and no one could stop her from what he would do. He filled a bag with a few necessary things and left. Motorcycle, train, plane. He began traveling to places where people lived and where he was fascinated during his readings. Scrutinized carefully to see where the people were what he had lost. Thought you can find on to others what she had not. At least this is what she believed. But why so much fuss for a couple of glasses? Without them, it was like for her to walk at night on a rope 10 feet above the ground, but any man at this point can only ask one question: 'why not buy a new pair?' Needless to say, the problem was not economic in nature ... and even emotional. She wanted her glasses, was a matter of possession. Every night I watched from a city other than a very blurry ball in the sky. More and more trying to understand the situation slipping out of hand. And the more the panic took possession of her, the more you travel. He stopped to talk to many unknown and every time she hoped would be the one who kept the truth. He was around for weeks and had eaten little. He wanted to change his clothes and a long bath in a tub of boiling water. That arduous journey, which had initially believed to be the fulfillment of his destiny, he had proved a failure. He was bored. The night before returning home, she had tried so hard to focus on the Moon that she could see her perfectly. She had imagined. He had ABOVE. Perhaps it was then that he realized he could have within themselves the answer to many problems. In his head ... on his head. He entered the house that had already taken off his shoes as he unbuttoned shirt. He threw the helmet on a chair, alarmed the cat that jumped two feet off the ground and ran wildly, scoured the floors. She smiled, got rid of the other clothes and prepared a bath with hot water, salts and the right music. After all this time was to look in the mirror again, and the eye fell casually on a pencil tip with double red and blue that lay on the worn edge of the sink. He understood and did not understand. He was already entering into the tub, when he put a hand through his hair to dissolve them and felt a shiver down your back, or a mixture of joy and terror. Perhaps the water was too hot? No. In the panic that was the result of a loss, the case - or carelessness - had enabled him to make the yellow almost unsolvable. If only she had kept quiet, if it had passed as usual, his hands through his hair, he quickly realized that to keep her hair gathered on the head as usual did not use the pencil with which reviewed his writings, but the much-mystified glasses.
Sometimes we have so close to the things that we need not even realize it .
Listening: Ultra Nate - Twisted
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