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The graffiti
prose [ ]

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by [mircealupu ]

2012-01-16  |     | 



I spend all my time in one place. I need to stretch my legs but it is impossible. My eyes are always focused in front of me. I cannot go on holidays.
I am not an office employee, you are mistaken. I am a graffiti on a wall.
I like spring. Leaves are sprouting, like in that tree in front of a semaphore. A truck driver slammed on the brakes to stop before the junction. A box with doormats fell off the truck. I don’t like those colourful doormats with pets, little turtles, parrots embroidered onto them. I simply couldn’t wipe my feet on them. I am better off as a graffiti.
I enjoy summertime. There is a terrace on the sidewalk. I see many people at the tables.
At one table I see two young women relaxing after work. I like one of them. They come by every two days. The shadow of the wall reaches the table as the sun sets.
She puts on her coat. It’s too cold now. They order hot tea. I am proud. After all it was my suggestion. What a nice evening.
Today I am sad. Two workers passed by carrying a big mirror. I finally know what the graffiti is all about. It is a scene from Alice in the Wonderland. Who painted it after all? A granny with a spray can?
The problem is I am not so young and nice as I thought. I am an egg.
It doesn’t matter. Schools will soon open. It is already September. My friends from the nearby high school will make some desirable changes. I like autumn season. I like changes.
Now, I don’t know who I am, as many times in my life as a graffiti.
A gipsy woman stopped and looked at me, with her hands on her hips. She shook her head and blurted out:
What a shame... to stick your tongue out like a baby! Look at your white hair and behave yourself!
I like winter the most. The wall is covered with ice.
No one can make comments now about how I look. Anyway people avoid the sidewalks because of the icicles.
Time goes by. It is spring again. I see new potholes in the street. I like changes...but not all the changes.
I have a feeling that the wall’s plaster cracked because of the cold. I just feel too loose.
I pray to hold on until summer begins. I mean until the terrace opens again.
Note:
Unfortunately masons were called in to repair the wall.
The graffiti peacefully disappeared at 10 am in a sunny spring morning. We all will miss it.


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