Visual Fiction

I heard music, horns, strings and then, a melody, single keys that knew their way into my heart. It’s a composition I have heard before. I know what it wants to say and how it wants to say it. There is an elusive sense of meaning that grows and grows…

Mr. Green was walking next to me, we were strolling through the narrow cobblestone alleyways of Europe. This felt familiar, there was a warmth in the air. I did not know where I was going, and neither did he. “I want to tell you a story,” he said, fixing his…

Their friendliness surprised me. Every passenger had an opinion, and they were more than happy to share it. I knew where this train was going, but I didn’t understand it. You could see it, etched in deep black onto every display. Europe. I started making my way from cabin to…

It wasn’t long until I could make out a small train station in between the pine trees. The building was old, it almost felt misplaced. Gone were the sharp concrete edges and the evenly lit surfaces. These cobblestones walls could still hold secrets, tugged in between the cracks. There was…

The next thing I remember is the face of a lady, covered not in snow but in old age. She had the passage of time written all over her face. Her eyes seemed almost blind, like two crystal balls devoid of any one color. Her nose was beautiful, even after…

I don’t recall the exact moment I rose from the ground. The catalyst for my awakening was a solitary snowflake, landing sharply on my forehead. Mr. Green stood over me, his gaze fixed downward. We need to keep moving. Lying on the ground, he said, wouldn’t lead me anywhere. Standing…

A voice breaks through the noise. She’s persistent, unwilling to give up in the battle for my attention. Why would she care? Let me float in peace in this sea of people. She started using her hands, then her arms, as a means to emphasize her message. Her face became…

He sat down across from me and we started talking. A reciprocal exchange of meaning. I told him of my ailments, one by one. He listened. What struck me was that his facial expression lacked that sense of superiority I had long grown accustomed to. I never blamed others for…

I sit down. A book in hand. It’s thick, heavy, it crumbles under its own weight. It holds over a thousand pages. The paper is so thin. It has to be. This book accommodates the meaning of everything. It’s like a compass, a Bible that holds the foundation of our…

The next event that unfolded was, to put it mildly, bizarre. Like previous incidents, my ability to detail them objectively is compromised. What remains is a blend of my own perceptions, a subjective narrative of my visual and emotional experiences. I awoke this morning, but not in a bed I…