June 23, 2011
Oh, Rain, you fat miserable piece of shit, what’d they have on you? 2 to 3 weeks off, or what? You were being afraid I’d enjoy too much Sun, huh? I should shoot you in the face right now! 20 fucking tons of your drops on my head plus the injured leg and elbow. Yeah, I fell off my bike because of you, while speeding home, I was soaked like a jelly-fuckin’-fish, right? And some guy inside the grocery says to me “Das ist normal”, as I was fucking bleeding. And you didn’t stop, you kept unloading your cold shit over my head ‘till I got home. I scared some people on the way, they saw me bleeding through clothes, yeah? What the fuck, you’re thirsty now? Why don’t you just poop some of your drops over us, again?! Big and heavy drops, like yesterday! You already started I see. Sure, it’s good, you like that soda? You better fucking enjoy it ‘cause this is the last good experience of your life. Then, we'll get along...
June 21, 2011
For a second it stopped raining. Four of them showed up. I wish the remaining two join me. They talk. Probably they’re old friends. Through my shades they just turned 20. If they get closer they may be old. The dark haired one smokes and checks me out, according to my shades. The blond one rolls a cigarette. It’s fucking cold and I don’t plan to go to them, it won’t get any warmer. It’s June, 12 degrees outside. According to reality.
June 8, 2011
Răzvan exersează cu voce tare limba suedeză. Un iubitor de aur din ţară întinde coarda şi Universul îmi confirmă diagnosticul de nanism psihic pus, înainte să plec, celor ca el. Gândesc şi văd atât de multe încât nu am timp să scriu despre toate. Ar însemna să mă transform în scriitor sau în fotograf, dar acum e mai bine să asculţi Suedia din Berlinul înconjurător. Mâine vei asculta Mali. E muzică, toţi zâmbesc, chiar şi cei din spate. Intrarea liberă.