Oliver Freyermuth
2 min read

Shinichiro, you can fly. You just don’t know it yourself. But… this isn’t the place where you take flight.

Isurugi Noe in True Tears (2008)

Eyes closed, he woke up. Something had changed around him, something had left. Someone. Forever, without notice. Never to open her eyes again. His eyes shot open, he was startled. He thought, he noticed the ceiling. Closing his eyes, his mind did not fall silent again. Eyes open again, he fell into an alertless sleep, wandering about. So far away, yet so close, someone had passed away. Why did she have to?


Flying low, she had just hit a small twig, and the bruise had sighlently grown into a life-threatening disaster which exploded in a fraction of a second. Alertless sleep, wandering through the day.


Daydreaming? Something like. Numb. Thinking. Wrong? Wrong!


Catching up, getting together. Closing the windows for a while, locking the doors. Selectively sorting memories. In sighlence.


Making the sighlence pass away. Not the loudness of outside, inside’s sighlent happiness. Taking the unborn sighlence of a mind’s fantasy for real. Temporary, grinding. Silent talking, enjoying a sighlent game of the struck mind.


Finally, reaching out to deep inside. Gaining insight. Nothing was gone. Nobody had left. Only future had changed by now past events, only making the past even more important.

And memories, whatever kind, more valuable. To enjoy in sighless silence.