"Behind every system, behind every rule stands a corpse and laughs. You can't tell me who I should sleep with. I don't work for wages. My life is a revolution... My life is a beautiful life... What you call freedom, I call waste... I will continue to love my own voice. If everyone becomes me, everything will collapse."

Bruno K. Ă–ijer

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

The Walk

I can actually feel the room, the room have a shape, it has a voice. Have you ever thought about it? When the room is talking to you, it's as you fall it to it, like a tiny little rabbit hole. Oh the room is so beautiful. Aren't we all, from the inside? I felt it once. Its like the first day of winter, when you came out side and you feel hairs on your arms stand up. Yes,.... You know what I'm talking about. It's that place no one could ever enter.

I call it a bubble, a place like a room with many doors and drawers. It's a nice silent place. The air it self is like an echo, it comes towards you and stops for a second. Then turns around and hides. I have an idea. I will never tell you what actually happened. But I will give you hint.

The walk was long. The ride even longer. The cab driver made a discount. The door opened. Rain, the British rain is always there. Then, the sound came along. The sound was tempting. Faces where dull a bit dark. The light was dim. Air thick. Sound was growing. And then everything in reverse. Then it happened again - SNAP!

Time is not always on my side. And now I have a perfect date. Mr. Freud told me he will love me till the end. I know he is a layer, but sometimes I tend to trust him. He is waiting for me, right now. On the corner we usually see each other. You know on Nicolson Street. In that coffee shop in the basement. He loves it.

But is it all in a deed of a person. Is it all about the sound of the air that day. That tricked me into it?
As Mrs. Dalloway told me yesterday: “I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.”

I remembered the dream I had today... He's back, again. I can tell you exactly how many breaths he had taken.

She told me the thing I tend to trick all the time. Time is here again. The room with all it's drawers is talking to me again, and I feel how all of vibrations imitates the wind that blew that day, I know what they try to remind me. Hopefully this will all go away. The dream is nothing more, then the wind with a twist, my road will expand. And this time, to the angel I will never miss. This time, It will not be a mistaken. Although that time, all those times, where not a mistake either.

Your and My,
Sonia Dietrich


Then, she took off, leaving the unfinished cup of coffee on the table, with all the memories in it.




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