A Lying on the sofa, I look at the wasp of the wasp on my Windows with the window. At some moment in the spring I noticed this. He sailed to the upper Sims, like a paper lump with marble. One washing crawled for several days and stuck on a layer around the layer. Build a wasps from Spit?
The unfortunate suffering of a university career and the suffering of the atmosphere of cultural journalism combine two non -alcohol perions.
Now it is big. Very large. Its entrance is advanced to the side, and insects are still building their architecture of dunes. Many have become crazy. I don’t quite understand how it worked. At first there was only one. Did she gradually raise others from her eggs? Or did they move later, when there was more space? How do they sleep WASP? Are you looking for contact with the body of others? I almost close my eyes myself.
This is Friday early in the evening. I met A. in Brandy. Most of us talked about work and writing. The unfortunate suffering of a university career and the suffering of the atmosphere of cultural journalism combine two non -alcohol perions. A little romantic, social summer of Berlin Elend at the top, until A. disappeared in a telephone call with the world -famous curator.
In the soft wind to Krezberg
I am without a sheet, a few more lines in my laptop, then to open, return to Kreuzberg, where my friends invited me to their terrace on the roof for dinner. Working to talk about this when you do not work, I think that on a scooter, hiding on a kitbusser, is levied into my face. It smells of warm strawberries and urine.
I’m late. There is an abundant atmosphere on the terrace, there is pink and fried Dort, it sits and is nearby, laughs a lot. B. and L. were built on baroles in the corner, from where they lose sight of the terrace, and hinted in the evening. Your mood is bold, contagious, warm. In the background, Vietnamese synthesizer pop runs from the 80s: “undoubtedly”, as emphasized by G. undoubtedly high -quality function.
At some moment there will be a little dance. The night will be longer. Cigarette boxes are empty. The dessert served, replenished. Cocktails become experimental in order to maintain the balance heavier. Everything ends with many tired people and a much larger number of limbs on the beige couch. On the way home, I have to think about Osah.
Cows from the royal grill
Saturday head is very complicated. Eyes do not want to rise. Mosquitoes are stinging on the way to the lake. The day seems unusually free, the book in the pocket is unusually difficult, the weather is unusually cool, accordingly pressed the mood. On the way back, I walked past a beige kiturder. “These are cows from Grill Royal,” B. says I look at them for a long time.
Its wet muzzles, their thick, long tongues. I want to push her hand in her mouth. Why are cows always directed in one direction? The crook of your Sonor reassures the wounded brain. It is infinitely sad that in the future one of these noble creatures can be eaten by Kanye West or Jens Spahn (I am not even a vegetarian). The bodies of the cows are greatly crushed.
Go out and get up. All life. I think about the small meditation of the “cow” of the author Lydia Davis, in which she watches three cows during the year: “You do not know the words“ man ”,“ neighbor ”,“ observe ”or simply“ cow ”. I think about the drawing of the Wasteland.
