When the chair broke she screamed and cursed in anger. The legs just gave in under a weight unrecognizable. I followed them outside and watched, how she dumped the chair near the entrance of the building and went back in. I waited till she was gone. Then, I sat down next to the chair and watched silently.
The chair knew I was there. It knew it wasn’t alone.
I wanted to say something, but no word would have made sense of this situation, nothing I could say would have reached its broken existence. Speech remained empty metaphor. I felt helpless. I started to cry. Its collapse was inevitable.
I stayed and listened, while the end slowly approached.
Lue woke up and reached for her mobile. He wrote her again. The lines simply said: I love your work. She answered with a smile and got up.
Their correspondence began a few weeks ago with a similar comment of his. Lue had answered without thinking and he locked on to her and didn’t let go. At first, she didn’t reply, but that couldn’t discourage him. The comments came daily, even more, if she actually answered. And she did. Somehow she felt less alone with him.
Continue reading “Spambot or the Implications of Being Attached”
She felt her knowledge collapsing, all her wisdom vanishing, leaving only the physical remnants of the thing she considered once her body. Lue walked for the first time in years.
[music recording by klankbeeld: http://freesound.org/people/klankbeeld/]]
There is a vast certainty in falling, Lue thought. She felt the air hissing in her ears while she rushed onwards. The speed suggested a destination, a fate or destiny cast upon her by the decision to jump. But nothing happened. The space in which she traveled knew nothing about borders. It was clear and endless, of pure aesthetic. She closed her eyes, a last ritual of hope for salvation, before she finally arrived.
A blast of color ripped through the blank space and pried her eyes open. The last thing she felt was the tint inserting itself into every fraction of her being.
The fall stopped abruptly and Lue arose.
Ari traf Mia an einem heißen Freitagnachmittag. Es war ein Jahr her, dass er Leif das letzte Mal gesehen hatte, ein Jahr, dass er ihm das erste Mal von ihr erzählt hatte.
Leifs Stimme wehte von der anderen Seite der Straße heran.
Hey Ari, hier drüben … Mia, das ist Ari.
Ari ergriff Mias Hand, sie schauten sich für eine Sekunde an, dann senkte sie den Blick und Ari setzte sich zu den beiden an den Tisch.
Continue reading “Richtung Birke”