Last night very late I left her house and forgot my hands in her hands. Since morning I’ve felt a strange tightness in my body. If I had my hands I’d light a cigarette and take several deep drags.
Just beside us a flock of days is passing. This must be the holiday of days — never have so many days been seen together before. A straggler faces us, childlike, staring wide-eyed as though we weren’t human beings but stuffed apes in a museum.
On the grave of my hunger my mother placed the lamps of her milk and on those offerings I nourished the snakes of my eyes. I twisted a rope of those snakes and performed my tricks on it. On the taut rope of the snakes of my eyes hanging like a monkey I have lived my life until now.
The slope of the church roof is so sudden and unhindered that only by turning into claws could the believers’ hands save their regret from tumbling off the roof. Between grass and sky is an invisible wave of light so sharp and shining that only things very near us can be seen without a great effort. Squinting into the distance one can make out just a blank screen, empty, like a soulless soul. The passengers on the bus never realized that the solidarity between road, wheels, and themselves is far stronger than their belief. They, like the road, the wheels, and the driver, will never reach their destination.