Brian Eno - Silver Morning

July 02, 1778

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It's useless to learn.

Mistakes are made, again and again... And once again, I feel queeeasy.

Apples. MUNCH! MUNCH! MUNCH! CHOMP!... GULP... G-GULP... BURP! Sorry. We two are hungry, don't you agree? Heh... why am I smiling like this ? To where? Who am I talking to? Can you, at least, hear me? Hey! Can you? There's no other way you can answer me, besides what happened this morning, am I right? Maybe.

Thanks to you, I hurled dinner last night, or something... I don't know what it truly was that mass, that piece threw away from my body before, but certainly... disgusting. That's the word I could find to say. There's other words, but you'll learn them when you grow up, like me, your mother.

Mother? You may be asking what a mother is. My head keeps forgetting things, but I can't forget such a thing as my mother. Well, besides mother, I can't forget the smell of anything.

I can sense it more now. The smell of the apples, the smell of the rain coming from the window, like the smell of this morning like many. I'll show you what a morning is within the day you'll open your eyes. I wonder which color they got in there... but let's talk about what a mother is. Fine. Who is there to take care of you? Even there, inside? And when you'll come outside, who will embrace your little body with the arms? Don't worry, because it'll be me, your mother. They, like me, exist to carry you in there and here. I live here, and you may also live and learn. I guess you're sleeping by now, even if you didn't learn such from myself.

This pillow you rest... I can feel another scent. Besides a mother, there is also a father. He ain't here at the moment. Don't worry. As soon as you are with your mother, there's no need to worry about the world outside. It's cold there, but soon you'll grow some fur as you live inside this house, and the warm you seek inside here will be the same, I know it will be.

Do you believe in me? Truth be told, for your first breath, your throat will burn, but you won't be alone. I'll be there, like now. An 'I' is less than 'we', but better than 'nobody'. Too many words? Don't bother. I also have a bad memory, though there are some things I can't forget. Wouldn't even try to.

I'll hold you in the same way I keep you comfortably there, with these hands of mine. See? Those are 'hands'. Some use their hands to many things, good and bad ones. I won't lend a hand to you, I promise. Gifts can be brought by the same hands.

To hold you with these hands will surely be a good thing, one of the best things they could attain. Yes, there are other mothers, not only me. Some are lucky to have their husbands near them. I envy the fisherman's wife more than she envied me. Wonder why? Because I was a Dragoon Knight.

Yes, I wore a red coat, holded a spear, jumped and fought against dragons and those who were disturbing this kingdom. Now I only wear green, hold nothing but what was once an apple with a hand, can't jump, and I can only fight for your safety. Besides hands, I also share claws. They won't be brought to you, but for you. Inside and outside, as you stay with me, I'll stay with you, even if you leave, there and here.

Whew... today I slept with no underwear, dreaming of butterflies. Then, when I woke up, I took a bath with my pants on. COUGH! COUGH! COUGH!... AAARGH! Oh, don't be afraid. That was just the dust, who fled from my carpet into my nose, and only. I didn't intend to scream, to wake you if you were sleeping.

I'm sorry, but I keep forgetting you're the only one who can hear me and my thoughts, after all. Can't understand, but at least, I seem to know you can hear what I hear. Many can do the same as you, yet they sometimes don't, and a few less than sometimes they do something about the message I gave to them. You can't do anything, besides listen to me. You are within me, far more than anyone could reach, or I ever could.

How did you come to be there? Heh... I won't lie. Nah, the chocobo didn't bring you to a dish I ate. Guess that Bart will be a better choice to answer you that. He was responsible for it, as much as I. Didn't expect you to appear. I felt no headaches, as many mothers felt. Neither Theresa, your aunt, felt them. Five times in a row.

I'll be waiting for you, patiently. You'll come into my arms and I'll hold you so tightly that nothing will harm you. What, me? Don't think such a thing. I won't harm you. Someday, there'll be no more space remaining to yours there, but in this world there is a lot of space for you, more than the space of these arms and the one inside this house. I can listen to you too, even if you can't talk with your mouth. I'll teach you how to talk with your tongue later as you grow there. Well, what did I say? Oh, yes. You can talk to me, as I can to you. I know you do.

When I ate these apples, and now that I ate another, I see you're eating them as well. If you don't, then I'll teach you, someday, when you'll come into my arms. Didn't say that before, did I? Before is before, and should remain like. Oh well, nothing lasts only at what came before. You'll grow, and I hope Bart comes here to see you. Didn't even hear that you exist. Don't worry, because he'll do.

There is a nail for each finger of mine. Five on this hand, and five on the other; ten nails on both hands, and counting up the ones on my feet, there's twenty nails. When you're born, there'll be no nails grew like mine into your hands and feet, though, if you wait like I am awaiting you, they will grow up like mine. When I hold you, these nails are not here to harm you, but those who'll try so. Bart is using his both claws and spear to protect us, understand? Well, not even I can understand. Not that your father isn't that stiff, nor that he is that skinny...

I'll be there for you, as much as you'll be there for me. Like now. Heard it? This is the beat of my heart. You also have a heart too, and you may share it with someone. Not this heart, but another who is called by the same name. A Heart, to be exact. Sure, you don't understand what I am talking about, don't you? It's understandable. I didn't learn of this until I had gotten nine, when... Well, let's just say your mother bled.

Bled? yes. This is a world of pain, to be fair with you. They hurt you, you bled, you cry, they do more, you bled more, cry more... I might be scaring you by this far, but even I didn't told you how far some got into this. Maybe it's not the time to say it so, but as I said before, these nails aren't just there to be shown. They need some action; thought, that would inflict the code of honor of the Dragoon Knights.

Not only mothers, but those who do the same job as mothers also follow it. It's something called by tradition, my dear. Customs, traditions, the law... you'll learn those. You need to learn some. Though some things can be decided by yourself, like if you want your hair... no, even the hair is a tradition here. Women like to comb hair. Men like to touch hair. At least, Bart used to.

Your father, like many, went away from home. He didn't went far from this house because he abandoned us, or because he stopped to think or care about us. Remember when I told you about the pain of this world? So this war is pain, and pain is war. Your father may be struggling to protect us by now, from the enemy who wants to take us down.

But that ain't war, my dear. It's the presage of something called termination. When there's a war to happen or already happening, you feel pain, like those who went to the fight, but when it comes to the termination, you have no time to feel pain, because you're away from this world. No, not again where you are, though you may be a bit right about such.

You will live with a body, but when you're gone, your body may perish, but your soul will depart, and part of it will be with the remaining ones who lived, who cared about you. Who else to protect our legacy besides those who knew about you, the things you had done for good? Thought, you may follow the path of evil, but that sure won't happen, with this mother you got, and this mother who will get such a child as you into her same arms.

Now, did I say this before? Maybe I did. Sorry, my dear. I've been forgetting lately. Not paying that much attention. Don't worry, because I won't forget you. Mother... I didn't forget about mine. Hungry? So do I. Let's eat. Whew... Mother was the one who taught me to feel this good. This hair, this snout, this tail, these nails, these eyes, these lips, these cheeks, these arms, these legs, these hips, these clothes... and you there, the only one who stood with me.

There is also Jack, in his sleep. I should had been on mine, but now that I am hungry... Better than keep sewing these clothes. They all want to see what lies beneath them, though clothes carry on a meaning to each one. To be recognized as a Dragoon Knight by wearing that coat, and a helmet, a coat of arms, holding a spear, and now that a bump showed on this belly, I am recognized as nothing but a mom, my dear.

The cloth you and the others wore shows beyond yourself who you are, in a position lower or higher to be compared to anyone. Some who are born without them still achieve such higher positions, as we stand in the lowest or the one they call by middle, a between that is an easy way found to say 'low' in other words, the words higher than us. Mother, I am glad that I had a conversation with yours, before you were gone.

As for Jack... I haven't woken him up yet, though he's able to do it alone. I see him walking downstairs, and he doesn't see me. Or even talk to me. Listen, he does, but why? Maybe it is because he still sees with me a piece of a mother, the piece of a ruler. Someone above, not only on height. Or weight, as he might be thinking, but that's just a suspicion. My son may not be the best, but when it comes to obey, he does.

I know. The one who truly ruled above all the house was father. But I am not a father of his, and never would I be. Even if I had such a will like his, I can't. Jack is the kind of son that doesn't seem to obey or care if his mother disappeared. This mother who stands there. But he must obey, not because of me, but because of his father.

He learned so much from his father, my husband, the one who should have been his mother instead. Now that you feel asleep, guess nothing of this bothers you. A Dragoon doesn't feel bothered at all, because they hold such power on their hands, and coat. The only power that I do hold, though... is the one I have been granted ever since I learned to talk. Interactions, I mean.

— Good morning, Jack. – I said, and I only heard my voice. Sure, this morning ain't the best, but he could have said something. Don't force nothing to come out of the boy, please. Well, wasn't that the intention? Sure, but things must happen naturally. Though it always rains in Burmecia, we agreed for it to be natural. Jack opens the cabinet, in search of something.

— Hey, m-Lennie... – Jack ate a word, didn't he? No, that may be just my imagination. At least, he spoke with me. On the back of mine, but he spoke something. I'm all ears – Where is the bread?

— The bread? – Was it already gone? I recall I had a lot... a week ago. Why do I keep forgetting? The basic food, as bread?

— Yeah, the bread. There is none, Lennie.

— Oh, I'm sorry. Is bread the only food in fault, Jack? – I asked my son. I wanted to see how he reacted when I said his name.

Nothing. Just the same silence. To be addressed by the name of his, the name his mother used to call him by such. I still remember those moments, but it seems Jack don't. Too young to remember. I was young, too. Still I am, but with this skin peeling off, and hair falling like flocks, feets swollen like bee sting...

— Hey! – Jack shouted. I looked at him, but then he said, with a look of the eye, that he meant to shout so I could hear him. Did he speak with me when I was thinking? I don't seem to recall it. But now, I'm paying attention to Jack, and what's about to come next from his mouth. – Lennie... you're so tall. Why can't you see the top?

— Okay. I'll see if there's something you might want to. – Then I rose from the chair I was sitting in, enjoying the apples, and so I came to the cabinet upwards, where Jack couldn't reach.

Maybe he could, if I wasn't there. I check if there is something he may like, or not, but it may be something for breakfast, at least. He woke up now, so I must bring him something light to eat. No, no one eats pure carnations, only the desperate one, and he doesn't sound like this, but still he's hungry. When we wake up, we don't seem to be able to eat, and still we are kept hungry.

— What do you have here, mo-lasses, right?

— No. There it is... oats.

— Geez! Oats! That's food for the aged, Lennie.

— Am I, perhaps, an aged? – I felt, somehow, offended by the tone Jack said 'aged', as if I was one. I'm only twenty-one years old, can't he see? Well, it seems he can't. I crossed both arms, and looked through his eyes with mine, when I asked. I demanded an answer, which came on the way of Jack, and there's no surprises for it.

— Yes. – Jack said – A bit. – He completed.

Don't worry about this, Lenneth. He's just a child. Besides, anyone can see this white hair of mine and say wherever they want, but aged? That was the first time. They, those from my family, always told me I was older than my siblings, even when I was a child, like Jack.

A child. You had been one too, didn't you? And now you are the one awaiting for such. How tables turn... but still, some things are kept. I was once a child, Not so reckless as I recall. But frightened by the look... Yes, I was. The look they, both mother and father, carried upon their faces, each time I committed a mistake. Father had the same look each day, whereas mother had her own look, and a bit of father's one.

— Lennie... – Jack looked at me. He didn't ate the oats in the bowl. My arms are no longer crossed. There isn't a frown on my head, just a face hard to tell if I am sore, or pretending to – Do you have milk? – Then he looked back to his bowl.

It became hard to crouch, feel the bones belonging to both knees instead of a soft spot. As for Jack, who wanted to walk, and how easy it was to crawl, and to get milk without asking.

— Yes. – There is a bit of milk in the gallon. I fill in a cup for Jack, who takes it and drops it all inside the bowl of oats. Then he began to ate it.

Remember when Jack refused to eat vegetables unless a bit of salt were poured on them? I remember many things, and I don't know if it's the same for Jack. Some may be forgotten by good, like all the times your son has gotten lices. And how he hated baths. Cold ones.

— Thanks! – After grating me, I can only hear Jack's mouth. These sounds used to bother me, because I always heard them. Now that he's feeling some joy, someone in this house who's feeling something else... There is no more milk, I see. And bread as well. Two who went to my list.

I'm worried about Jack, and so he is worried about me..

How many times has he said 'thanks' before? Like that? When I taught him how to be gentle, little Jack was traveling miles away, wondering if a Dragoon threw out of a ceiling could stand on its feet before falling on the ground.

I told him so, then I felt that scent of a well-made crib, a goodnight kiss upon his chin, and how these things don't seem to matter that much. But they do. For Jack's skin not to get chaffed, he used to crawl around naked on this house. That's what Bart told me, and all I can get is a picture of the scene. On that same day, I refused to tell Bart. It was better for him not to know, but he knows that each time I come back, I get hurt.

Holding captives with their hands. I remember clearly. One of the few things I do remember, as if it happened yesterday. The day before the world went away to another. I have been here before, as well. Sitting on this chair, tired of being still. If I don't go, I'll always be stuck here in this poor little room, with the view of the marbles.

'I must go'. 'Please don't'... and that was the last time I heard Jack call me by mother.

The last chance I gave to his on that day, the same one I gave another chance of Jack, and others like him, to be alive. Instead of the shadow of a wing crossing through streets near home, my own was there. Unseen, but it was. Now, the only shadow who lies there belongs to another. And what lies within me is living in the shadows.

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