Self portrait of a conversation
"Day eleven!" I think aloud,
Shushing my brain,
Asking it to quiet down.
Except,
Unlike the voices in my head,
There is actual verbalisation,
Without my realisation
Or go-ahead.
My words resound in the quiet room
Occupying the physical space
Between the walls of my room
And the walls of my ears.
Where I sit,
Slowly sipping hot Moroccan tea.
A sound so unassumingly mine
That for a second,
I fail to recognise it
For its overfamiliarity.
Disturbing the utter delight
Of solitude -
If only
Momentarily.
Art by Aimee Pong
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