I feed them in their bowl and i know they are really bubbles of air and wavelengths.I've named them "me" and "You". And as I witness those happy orange-golden wavelengths flash in their watery bowl, i begin to realise i have too become a happy wavelength myself, just like those other feathery blue wavelengths in the cage over there.
"Miss, you look like you're a thousand years old and like you know everything" she says. And as I look at this newly developed bunch of wavelengths, knowing all that i know, i find nothing better to say than "I'm not that old, just forty, really" and she smiles at me in adoration. Please, please, don't admire me, i think inside, but it's too late, i spoke again and now she believes me. She will become a teacher, one way or another.
I look at my weight loss article. And then i think about how this body came to be. Each gram filled with happy feast, alcohol with friends and ideas. The wrinkles around my eyes from laughing at their company and the greyness of my hair that i conceal not out of vanity but out of a sense of conformity with standards of decency. A teacher has to look decent... The skin marked by the sunny days on endless beaches, the pleasures all worth the trouble. But most of all I love those two wrinkles between the eyes without which i wouldn't look so old and angry. They are special because they are only mine. They come of thinking and reading, of solving riddles and problems late at night and of reaching deep and high. They are wrinkles on a wavelength, worth as much as a dime, nothing but a wavelength, as well. The song is indelible in my head.