After a long time I am feeling myself again. Few months ago I lost a friend of mine. It's August already, this six month were hell for me. But now I shifted to a new city where no one knows me. But I think that's the good part — no one knows me so I can be anyone here... come on Lyra this is your time now! It's a good morning, the breeze smells like summer going away, waving goodbye taking away all of my sorrows and bring a new life ahead of me.
This place New Orleans feels different. This city breathed in jazz and is making me fall in love with it. The streets curled like whispers, slick with memories. The air smells wet moss, old books and like something sweet rotting beneath it. This city seems like full of secrets, the lamp posts are warm yellow in color that makes the whole city glimmer. My apartment is not that modern and that's what I love about it. The walls have cracks in it which looks like constellations, the old paintings hanging in here sung untold stories. On one wall I hanged an unfinished painting of mine. I am not able to complete it, it's like an artist block.
Mostly the weather here is grey cloudy. But today the warmth of sun is touching my face like a gauzy curtain which is turning my face liquid gold my eyes are shimmering with hope...
I should practice something before meeting Mr. Solace – "hello, my name is Lyra Blackwell, I am an artist and would love to show my arts in your exhibition events." Yes, I am an artist or you can say unemployed, it's so hard to do something artistic and earn money as easily as finance investors. I love to speak through my painting, it's like my brush strokes can speak the thoughts of mine that I can't. But does people understand that? I never got the right audience. Are my paintings that complex or people are losing their feelings and artistic visions. Sometimes I don't want to tell what's going on in my mind, I want them to understand it through my softening eyes. But I guess people don't do this anymore, do they? I always keep questioning myself, my head never stops spinning around.
Fuck it's 10am already… I need to rush to Mr. Solace. As I prowled through my door, I hesitated a little. I lack confidence when it comes to my work. I locked my door and turned around… I...I … saw blood, actual human ink a lot of it across the valley, which was weird and somber. This really made me feel blue. A body, a HUMAN body in front of me. What an graceful start of the day! Yes! God I wanted to see an actual dead body today, thanks.
It's happening again I am having the flashback of his death like if I was there when he was dying.
After a long time I am feeling myself again. Few months ago I lost a friend of mine. It's August already, this six month were hell for me. But now I shifted to a new city where no one knows me. But I think that's the good part — no one knows me so I can be anyone here... come on Lyra this is your time now! It's a good morning, the breeze smells like summer going away, waving goodbye taking away all of my sorrows and bring a new life ahead of me.
It's happening again I am having the flashback of his death like if I was there when he was dying. That blood made me splintered. I don't want to go through that all again. I should just walk towards the office.
On my way to the office I gazed at the monuments, the old buildings. This place smells like red velvet, cinnamon and wine. No wonder why artists love New Orleans.
Oops I am here, I wish he just approves. "The eclipse house" an interesting name. I don't care if he loves them or not, I will pay him if he wants more money but I don't have more money. That's all I am not taking any chances and definitely not going back. As the stillness passed by, I entered through the door, a bell rang that sounded as if born from memory. He smiled towards me and said "Good morning Ms. Blackwell??". He doesn't even remember my name? we talked yesterday!! Forget about it Lyra we are here to make a deal let's focus on that. I smiled and said– "Blackwell, Mr. Solace". Of course it was a fake smile, I am not willing to smile on the face who doesn't remember my designation. I hate dealing with people on morning. Why can't everyone just work at night and make it simple. God!! I zoned out what was he saying.
This time with an awkward smile I said– "sorry what were you saying, come again please?".
Disappointment, clear disappointment on his face. I fucked this up. He continued– "I was saying, to have a seat and show me your art, so I can take further decision". Oh! Yes he is the one going to decide I totally forgot. "of course Mr. Solace I brought some of my work". As I handed him my paintings he was not in an utter shock as I willed him to be just like in romcoms I guess? He nodded his head and said– "this are good" and continued adjusting his glasses and gazed at my paintings. It felt like someone was watching all of my secrets, through my skin and bones to the soul. I felt so naked.... He looked up at me and smiled– "you are lucky, the one artist who was assigned for the exhibition stepped back and left New Orleans". So this man is telling me that if that artist wasn't gone I would have not got this spot? Okay? That was rude.
We shake hands and I was in utter confusion. So what now? Is this a deal? Say something Lyra, ask him!! With my eyebrows scrunched I said– "so this a deal, right?". He laughed.... He has a sweet laugh I love when old people laugh, it makes them kid again. "Yes Ms. Blackwell this is deal"– he said. I sighed– "thank you Mr. Solace this means a lot to me". I handed him the cheque and deal was confirmed. Now I have no money not in any form. I invested all of it, and I hate asking my parents for money. No one talks about the mid twenties crisis. Financial crisis. love-life crisis. career crisis. CRISIS. I think I should just go back to my apartment and have lunch. I was walking through the valley and as I was looking up to the houses I noticed that balconies here are so European. This reminds me of my home. How I used to paint in my balcony.
As I looked down ..... BLOOD??!! Strong red blood marks under my feet... am I standing right where that man died this morning? I... I am not able to bre... breath near blood blood BLOOD. This all is taking meme back to the night when Leif died. He comes in my dreams asking for help and to spare him. But why? Why in my dreams he is asking me to spare him. At some points in my life I wanted him dead, but that doesn't mean I really want him dead. I should be careful what I wish for. But dying doesn't make him any good of a person, he was a horrible person who did bad things.
I am feeling quiet hearted and this morning is making me miss my family. I miss my family sometimes… but not always.
My childhood was definitely not that great, all I remember is my mom and dad fighting. They were together just because of me, and that felt as sharp as guilt, cutting through thought. I had no friends. Yes! no friends and no siblings. But she was always there for me, we talked, laughed, gossiped, and I named her Seren. Lyra and Seren. Her name was Seren for a reason, lyra is like the constellation which feels dreamy. And Seren means star in Welsh.
With time she faded, yet not her voice. Her voice still echoes in my head sometimes. I don't know how she looks now. Beneath this all I still feel her in my heart.
Is she watching me?