WJ Entry #006

July 05, 2019

The chill reverberates through my translucent slivers of smoke. I drift alongside my fellow airy brethren, helpless to the flow of the wind. I'm a fragment of a cloud, a wisp of cool nothingness that drifts close to the surface on days like this- when the air is crisp and the world is bathed in desaturated light. 

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Strong, proud pine trees shoot up from the earth and I weave between their soft needles, leaving behind shreds of myself. The wind picks up and I follow it, floating over trucks with their early morning deliveries, police officers setting up cameras and masses of people travelling to the city. I'll never reach the city but if I do, I'm not sure it will be me anymore.

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I don't need anything.

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The air shifts again and I drift in the opposite direction for a few beats, spreading myself thin in a writhing, opaque mass.

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I don't feel anything.

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A billboard blocks my path and I slither over it gracefully, tendrils of condensation leaving my body. How lovely it would be, to just wander in this cold air forever. 

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I don't want anything. 

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I just am.