Entry 25 - Buddha Talking to Buddha

 Two Buddhas, sitting face to face, arms folded and resting on top of crossed legs. Their speech is strange, each speaks at his own pace and their replies are often mismatched :
  "I'm not going.
  and have you seen the new episode?"
  "why not?"
  "the main dude killed his father!"
  "haven't seen yet! Don't spoil!"
  "not going because I don't feel like going."
  "oh fuck, I said no spoilers!
   and of course you are going."
  "you took to long to say it!
   no not going."
   "fuck you then" - something funny about a peaceful looking buddha saying "fuck you" with rage in his voice.

  It wasn't a room as much as a set of walls, and they weren't sitting on the floor, they were somewhere in the middle of the walls, and one couldn't tell which was ceiling and which was floor, all the walls seemed to be one and the other, at one point, but you'd never notice the room spinning.
  You'd never notice bugs anywhere either but every word was recorded, processed and stored, by the room.

   "she still hasn't said a thing"
   "she won't"
   "she will"
   "when?"
   "I don't know"
   "so.. you'll wait forever?"
   "for as long as I can"

   The sound filled the emptiness between walls, forming words, barely visible, outlines of letters one after the other, illuminated by the reflection of the buddhas on the wall. Sometimes the words would appear briefly and then disappear before they could transverse between walls, and something was left out of the talk. Yet the buddhas hardly noticed it, voices going left and right, three, four unconnected talks, all in one.

   "I won't go, go alone.
    and I haven't spoiled the important part"
   "I don't know no one else there!
    oh, got a text, wonder if it's her? [not delivered | retry?]
    and yes you did! He kills his father!"
   "of course you do! You know her!
    and the important part is how he dies"
   "nop, just some stupid ad."
   "what ad?"
   "the text I got."
   "what text?"
   "nevermind.
    she'll be busy with everyone else."

   Time passes slow and fast there, no clocks, no sunlight, no stars and no moon : time is meaningless between the walls. A buddah might go away and return just in time to listen to all that he missed. You can see, in rooms just like this one, buddhas talking to themselves, alone, and another buddha, sitting outside the walls, listening to every word he can see. There is no space separating rooms, all there is is a void that cannot be penetrated by sight sound or thought. Every set of walls is a closed file in the directory of time, and every word ever said is there saved, and only a format to the universe can erase them.

 "maybe it's time I just give up." [not delivered | retry?]
 "maybe it's time I just give up." [not delivered | retry?]
 "maybe it's time I just give up." [not delivered | retry?]
 "maybe it's time I just give up."
 "do it then, and then regret it until the end of time comes
  I'm off."

 One buddha slowly uncrosses his arms and legs, slowly stretches into a human pose, does a very small bow and falls out of the walls, vanishing into the void, no more a buddha, no more a voice.

 "maybe I will."

 the lone Buddha utters, his words like a fluorescent graffiti on the wall

 "maybe I will."