Emotionless…

 

“Artists use lies to tell the truth. Yes, I created a lie. But because you believed it, you found something true about yourself. “

 

Jazz music soothes my soul and breaks my very limitations. However, my interest in jazz isn’t a complete motivation in itself. In fact, pure wholeness existence is to be reviewed!! Dear reader I do not intend to startle you. Neither the core of my story nor its beginning appeals to you. Yet, my identity might be my golden ticket. Unfortunately, luck and I broke up a long time ago. Alright, time to cut to the chase; my name is Christine and I’m divorced wife. Mother of an only child, we were abandoned by a former loyal man called a husband. Since that time my son and I decided to continue the journey of life.

 

 

My son promised me to become a famous jazz singer just to please me. Dull is my affair with life. Leaping into its suspicious facts and random accuracy my wisdom was then questioned! Again, I’m not a philosopher. Let’s say a dumped mother, who smokes and who happened to love jazz. Yes, that should be my portrait/Place in this fancy library where you arrange my humanity and integrity as if I were a book. Well blame it on math, and logic! A philosopher is to be a thinker whereas a woman is meant to be very engaged in a process entitled “prisoners of consequences”. A lot of things come to mind when cogitating; only one event knocked me down to realize how titles are flawed. Perhaps, losing sight makes one’s ignorance vulnerable. As my little Thomas went blind our life took another turn. Indeed, a flow of generosity invaded our space. So, we wound up as the happiest miserable lost people on earth and that’s because we lost a part of us to gain a greater one which we weren’t aware.

 

 

My grief was unspoken and cold. I thought there was nothing wrong with my son!! As he was capable of viewing the world better than those with blind minds… A good investigation requires an elegant definition; therefore make sure to define your words and actions. At last,

I swear I’m not a hopeless thinker; I’m a modest mother whose life revolves around doubt. Thomas and I, hand in hand we will go to the moon according to the definition we set for ourselves. After all, we are 2 spirits hovering over the famous ending. Somehow, we find it so amusing grappling with the universe’s riddles. In time, we became emotionless.

 

 

 

 

jazz

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