Motion of the Living Pinwheel


It was the busiest street in one of the biggest cities in the world and it was a holiday of some kind. It was night time and all those who had decided earlier in the evening to get out were now bunched up in their steamed up cars, stuck in the ever-still traffic trying to get home or somewhere like that.

It must’ve been the thousandth time that he had warned his father not to take the main street and the point that his father, for the billionth time had done otherwise made the vessels in his forehead triple their regular size and his blood cold. Of course, none of this changed anything when it came to the ever-growing traffic and the dream-like stillness of the vehicles along with their dead-like passengers.

All around there were lights; of many colors, but the warm colors mostly visible: orange, red and yellow. He put in his ear buds while listening to songs at random. This seemed like the best thing to do given the otherwise unbearable circumstances at hand. After getting all cooped up and settled in the back seat his attention was drawn by something on the other side of the broad street; on the sidewalk.

A paper pinwheel turning ever so swiftly and rapidly on top of a plastic straw held very tightly by the hands of a little boy-one would think eight or so-who was running very joyfully and with such passion while holding this bright smile in that bitter cold air.

He could not tell where the little boy’s parents were or whether he was alone or. Because the little boy was just doing one single thing: running! At the highest speed possible for his tiny feet and short legs. He was running because if he were to do otherwise, if he were to reduce speed even a little bit, his paper pinwheel would lose speed or even worse, it would stop turning altogether. Yes; the little boy didn’t want that to happen anytime soon. So he just kept moving and so did his paper pinwheel.

The cars had barely moved ten inches and he was feeling restless. The random tracks on his music player were random indeed. He decided to choose a certain playlist. Nauseous and dizzy at this point, he took a deep breath but right after doing so realized all the windows were tightly shut and all he took in was the stale, smoky air inside the car. He rolled down the back window by an inch or so and kept looking afar; perhaps to observe another slice of life. But then all of a sudden, the stillness present was too much, he experienced a sudden rush of suffocation and felt a restlessness of some kind.

No sooner had his father put the car in gear that he pushed the back door open and almost jumped out. Slamming the brakes, his father turned back, looking alarmed and asked in an angry hissing voice:

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing” He mumbled. “I’m just gonna walk the rest of the way.”

So he took off, walked among the many pretty-much-parked cars and looked into all the foggy glasses at all those still silhouettes. A very happy song was playing on his player; one with a very beautiful poem which he loved. He wanted to go by each car and draw a smiley face on the fogged up glasses or perhaps even write something heartfelt; But then decided to just do it in his head; you see, he thought of this as the more proper thing to do. He walked towards the sidewalk and started walking the miles. He gained speed, his steps becoming quicker by the second. Within just a few seconds he was almost running. And then he really was running.

There were other things in his imagination as well. For instance, at that very moment, he had a paper pin wheel in his hands and then a very beautiful smile emerged where his lips were. He kept smiling and running in that cold bitter night; perhaps to get a little bit warmth and joy; some passion.

August 2011

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