No sender

Is there a lot you wish to say or nothing?

I see in the Inbox a blank space, scrawled words, captions…what does No Sender mean? It has been sent. Someone is. Someone who wishes to be invisible. Who wants to erase his or her identity. Who wishes to give me a blank space. Or just space to be. Whoever you are, I can imagine you…

No Sender is a man wearing a comfortable pair of trousers and an open collar shirt…a plain shirt in pastel. You are tall, but not too tall…you are lanky, almost skeletal, and I can see the ribs through your shirt. Your hair is cropped short at the back and is long in front so it falls on your forehead as the wind blows when you walk through the woods and your shirt clings to you. You look up at the sky and capture a sunset that is orange and blue, the sky still making its presence felt.

You pick up a twig from the ground and dust off the mud. Then you pierce your finger. Blood flows and you dip the twig tip and draw lips on the bark of a tree. You wait for it to dry. Brushing your cheek against the rough trunk you turn your mouth towards it. You taste your blood that now has a woody fragrance.

Your mouth hardens for a moment. It feels like bursting. A little leaf pushes itself out.

You pull it from the soil of your tongue and throw it up in the air. It flies and just when it is about to drop, there is a windstorm. It blows away. You don’t know where. You don’t want to know.

You are No Sender.