There was a softness here. A softness she had never known before. It was as if all the harsh lines of life had been erased. There were no shadows, no darkness lining the images. But there was light. It was impossible. How could there be light with no shadows? But there she stood, and there were none. She couldn’t remember. What she couldn’t remember she did not know. All she did know is that she had forgotten something. It was a strange feeling. The same feeling you get upon waking in the morning from a dream. The dream is lost to you, but you remember, you just know that you should remember it, but you have forgotten. It was the same feeling. But it did not provoke panic in her. You could not be panicked here. It was impossible, like the shadow-less lights. She moved now, slowly, for she could not and had no desire to move any faster than she was. And she found that everything was…fuzzy. Not just her mind that could not remember, but her surroundings as well. It was as if someone or something had taken the focus out of the place. There were no lines to distinguish shapes from the next, just a fluidity, a blending of all things: colors, shapes, lights. Everything. Then came the sound. Well, no. That was wrong. The sound, was it music? Yes, a soft melody. But it had been there all along. It was part of the place. It blended with everything else. It did not stand out to contrast the elements around her, but rather moved with each image, as if it were merely an alternate, audible way to view the surroundings. She desired to follow it to a source, to see if there were others. but there was no source. There could not be. The music merely existed as did each image she saw before her. There was no beginning. There was no end. It was just there.
The question of others brought another to her mind. Was she alone? The word sparked a memory, a fear of the word from before, from before this place. She did not fear the word, but she remembered fearing it. Was it a harsh word? She wondered. It must be, for it seemed to have no place here in this world without lines. There did not seem to be anything to fear, let alone a silly thing such as a word.
“It is not the word that is feared, but its meaning.” Came a voice on the wind. Like the music it did not seem to start or end. It spoke and then it did not. The voice fit this world, it suited it. Yet, somehow, she knew that such a voice should have seemed strange. But it did not alarm her. She merely pondered what had been said. She had not remembered that words had meanings. It seemed a strange concept, yet she recalled that it once made sense to her.
“The meaning of ‘alone’ must be very powerful. To fear it, it must be,” she reasoned.
“In another place, it is.” Came the voice again.
“And in this place?” she asked, curious. She sat down then upon the ground, not that she could tell where the ground and the sky met. There was no ending, or at least, none that she could tell. But she thought it strange that she would be sitting upon the sky.
“This place is different. There is no need to fear words or their meanings,” the voice answered her. She wondered why the voice was answering her questions. It had not done so before, when she awoke confused by the world without lines. Perhaps, it was bored, she mused.
“Boredom is another word that has no place here.” The voice answered, “You were not spoken to before, because you asked no questions. Confusion is expected, for here is very different from there.”
“Where is there?” She asked aloud. She could not remember where ‘there’ was, but she she knew she should. She knew she had been there before.
“You will remember, or you will not. Remembering is not so important here as it is there.”
“How long before I remember or do not remember?” She asked, thinking the question important. It was a question she would have asked when she was there she believed.
“Time is another word that only has meaning there,” the voice gave as an answer. She did not like that answer. It really did not answer the question she had asked.
“Are there others here?” She asked.
“Of course.” Came the simple reply.
“Where are they?” She asked again.
“You must wait until you forget how to see. Seeing is for there, not here. Once you forget, you will find the others.”
She did not understand that answer. To see the others, she had to forget how to see? It did not make sense to her. But maybe, it made sense here and she was still thinking like she was there.
“Can I see you?” She asked
“When you forget to see,” Came the answer.
The answer still confused her. But she did not have another question. She was not tired, and briefly wondered at that, but before the voice could answer such a musing, she answered it herself: it was another word that had no meaning in this place. And so she sat, knowing the voice was there to answer her questions , but she gently ignored it, instead choosing to watch the world without lines around her and to hear the music that flowed within it. She sat there, not thinking or waiting for anything, just seeing the world without lines. She sat there until it no longer mattered to her if she was sitting on the ground or the sky, until it no longer sounded funny to sit on the sky. She sat there until she no longer sought the differences between there and here. Until it no longer mattered to her. As she sat there, she no longer though of this place as the world without lines. Not that it magically became focused; it was still the same as when she first awoke to it. But instead, she forgot that the world was missing the harshness of there, the place before. As she sat there, she felt the voice, though she had no questions for it to answer. But as she sat there, on the sky, she felt the voice become stronger, not that it had lacked strength before. But whereas before it had existed in the images and sounds of the world without lines, neither starting or ending, not it had a place. She turned her head to the right to look at the man next to her.
“Are you the voice?”
“I am always your voice,” He answered.
“I know your face,” She said, surprised to recognize an image in this place, an image from before she had sat down.
“You will always know me,” He said in answer to the unspoken question beneath her words.
“I am glad,” she replied, truly elated at the thought. “Will you sit with me?” She asked.
“Always,” came the expected answer.
And so they did. Sit. Side by side in the world without lines. They watched the world around them. As they sat, other would join them or leave as the desire sprung in them. there were always others in the world without lines. Other who chose to drift and float. Some had not learned to forget how to see yet, and others still preferred wandering to watching. But they remained. Content to sit side by side, always together.