Chapter 2: Dust
Dust. I hate dust. I despise it with passion. If I was a poet then every word I ink on the paper would be devoted to condemning dust. You know why? Wait, who are you again? Ah it matters not. I just want to express my ardent desire, my belief, my life's philosophy, my wholehearted devotion- I hate dust.
Why? Oh you know why. Look at that. Dust. Everything is dust. North, east, south, west- every single damn thing is dust. Dust above my hair, dust beneath my soles, dust in the shy crevices of my flesh. Sometimes I even have the chilling thought that I myself am dust.
It wasn't always like this. I remember- just a faint memory, a whiff- there was something else other than dust. Different colors, yes, something prettier than dust.
People! Yes. Fleshes like me and the things we built. Oh wonderful. Faultless. Divine! I can see them. Murky and hazed but I can see them. What happened again? Why are they gone? Why has dust replaced their colors? Why? Why? Why? Why!
Oh I remember. They left me. The bastards left me. They vanished, turned to hateful dust. All of them did. Merciless bastards. Even the things we built were consumed by dust. Only I remained. Cruel. It was cruel.
I shouldn't have drank from that fountain. I shouldn't have made myself into this. Life is the greatest gift they say. Life is glee. The bastards lied. Life is the greatest curse. No, I don't really hate dust. What I hate is life- my life. Let it end. Please let me rest. I have been walking for eternity. Please. I beg you. I am tired. Let me turn to dust too. Please. Please. Please. Please!
I fell kneeling. Perhaps I should just stay here. There was no point in walking anyway. Walking would lead me to nowhere but misery.
I caressed the dust. The fine things seemed to dance to my disturbance. They swayed and furled and cleared. A fine thing glinted where the dust had cleared. There I saw it. I saw something. Big. Not too big but enough to shift the dust when I took it.
It was beautiful. Shiny and hard, simply beautiful. I forgot what it is called. But it was something from before everyone left me.
Oh you poor thing. You poor poor thing. Abandoned and alone just like me. Come here.
I cradled it in my arms. The sweet thing was lost. It must be afraid.
Bare was my body and soiled was my mind. Yet I smiled as I resumed my eternal walk. I just made a friend today.
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