His chin trembles. He had seen himself in the mirror that morning. He had not noticed it for a long time, because it had become so normal, a part of him, that he no longer took any notice of it. But that morning he had seen himself in the mirror. ‘I am old,’ he told himself.
The bench from which he now looks out over the park is old too. Faded remnants of paint form long stripes along the grain of the wood, more and more of which saw the light of day over the years. Relentlessly the sun had dried out the paint and made it brittle, so that it had flaked off in hard shreds. Now, suddenly, he notices how wretched this bench has come to look. For years it had been green and smooth in his memory. He could have sworn that the bench was still green to this day, had anyone asked him. His chin trembles. He knows exactly why. It was the myofibrils of his cheek muscles, taking turns at a certain frequency to keep taut the muscle that held the lower jaw up and the lips together. Over time this frequency had grown slower and slower; one lot of myofibrils took their break while the others still needed a little more rest before they could relieve them. And so his lower jaw dropped, as gravity dictates – a tiny bit. Until the muscle pulled tight again. That was how it was. He can explain it to himself. The only question he has no answer to is how he had aged so quickly.
His chin trembles. He had seen himself in the mirror that morning. By now he had forgotten it, because it had become so normal, a part of him, that he no longer took any notice of it. But that morning he had seen himself in the mirror. For the first time in a long while he had seen the man he was – from a different vantage point. ‘I am old,’ he told himself.
The bench from which he now looks out over the park is old too. Remnants of paint form long stripes along the grain of the wood, more and more of which saw the light of day over the years. Relentlessly the sun had dried out the paint and made it brittle, so that it had flaked off in hard shreds. Now, suddenly, he notices how wretched this bench has come to look. For years the bench had been green in his memory. He could have sworn that the bench was still green to this day, had anyone asked him. His chin trembles.
He knows exactly why his chin trembles. It was the myofibrils of his cheek muscles, taking turns at a certain frequency to keep taut the muscle that held the lower jaw up and the lips together. Over time this frequency had grown slower and slower; some of the myofibrils took their break while the others still needed a little more rest before they could relieve them. And so his lower jaw dropped, as gravity dictates – a tiny bit. Until the muscle pulled tight again. That was how it was. He can explain it to himself. The only question he has no answer to is how he had aged so quickly.
Dieser Post ist auch verfügbar auf:
