I met a boy. He seemed, at first, to be just a little boy whose paws smelled like a kid’s old sweaty sock after a football match, and whose skin had soft fur that knots when he gets nervous, and whose farts are lethally silent. But he taught me things, like: time is relative. It is not as linear as you, human, would like. Yesterday, today and tomorrow can exchange events and tomorrow can be yesterday, today can be tomorrow, and yesterday too can be today. Of course he doesn’t talk so I don’t know how I learned what I did. I don’t know if it’s the human old sock smell, the lethal farts, the knotty sweaty fur, or another disgustingly human thing about this creature that engrained in me such a disturbingly promising speculation. But I know, for a ridiculous fact, that he’s right. And each night he rests his no-jaw face on his round paws and takes a breath to indicate a successful, albeit anxious, end of the day, he soothes me to sleep. “You don’t just have today, even if tomorrow may never come, you have tomorrow too. And yesterday, who said it’s fully gone? Don’t listen to them. Yesterday is still happening. Watch out, my silly human. You are wasting much time holding in your carbon dioxide, unknotting the knots of your natural human intricacy, and buffing the soles of your feet to walk on nothing but clouds. Be a dog, you feeble feeble soul.”
Beisan A. Alshafei
July 3rd, 2020
Beisan's Burble 