Sound Waves: Uninstall, Chiaki Ishikawa
Solid Note
There are voices everywhere.
Laughing, mocking, trying to make themselves superior.
They sound so happy.
They seem like they have something to look forward to, when they talk.
Different tones
Different stories
And I could only hear what is there:
Belonging.
What is it that they have that I can't see when I talk?
Holding more lift in their voices
When mine floats in an empty course across two meters of ground.
I can't say whether or not they can see the me
They really want to talk to.
But this doubt is more disturbing me than
Actually coming to say what I can say.
My ears are the ones who gain much more than what this
Dried up leaf-like voice can ever retrieve from simple conversation.
I could only talk to myself.
I can only say what I want to myself.
And I can only doubt whether or not
I can get out of this self-made glass box,
In order to see the socially made light of being 'there'.
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