Sampurna Chattarji: Body Clock

The ticking inside her the noise of a metal insect, a bomb red wire blue wire that refuses to be defused, palms joining like the gesture of a jester, aerobic, yogic in his posture of willing time to stand still, one leg above the ground, for eternity. She listens to it ear to the ground, rail tracks, the white coat of a doctor. She bows to the artificial sun, turns her face to its yellow light, writes „arcadian rhythm” instead of „circadian rhythm”, and realizes, it’s time to call it a day.

Sampurna Chattarji

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