we sharpen the bread knife. we spread the bilberry jam on the white
bread slice with the blade of the knife. clouds after clouds gather
over our heads. it almost smells like rain you tell me how beautiful
it will be when it will rain. how good it will be the very next moment.
we tell to each other our tales about the edge of time upon which we sit
back to back. only a piece of ground from where we will never escape.
after all what else can be happiness but this standstill. before something new
would happen. you know just like me that we almost forgot that we’re humans.
the wind is our friend and the silky rain the same. this make believe
of seen and unseen things. that means even the sun and even the black cats
that used to be scared in front of us hiding in the ill being of the night
because of too many exorcisms or too many domesticated gods. now
it is good even for me the one too much forgotten by her kin. I can see
beyond the animal side of things. I know that time flows and the price
of each and every word is bigger that it seems. we are together and this
is good. that’s what you tell me. I say that we are sad. a kind of merciful
and conscious sadness. something beautiful that makes the spectators of
the human condition to cry or to smile without being noticed by the others.
we are just two people or maybe many people who are bound to sell
opium for peanuts to others. yes.
it is wonderful that the world makes music or the world is changing
its underwear that the stars are silver spurs for a life that drags the yoke
underneath. the only reality that exists and thus we respect because
it is the one and only and we two we look at each other with love or
with the boredom of being alive we too in the same instinctual manner.