is the last day sun before the rain. The cat was lying like a dead and I wonder if it's not boredom he feels. He lived for fifteen years in the house and he does not come out. It was for him the deck and window sills. This is the last day of sun and maybe he's bored.
I butter the toast. I eat, I bite it, then I chew maybe four or five times before swallowing, then I bite again and it lasts until it is no more than my fingers. In my head it happened in the future. Very close indeed. It happened on the glass of water to drink, Brushing teeth and finish the book. All this in a well-cut order, but very fast. I saw it all in my head, in a few seconds. More rapid was the memory of my night, my dreams. And meanwhile, for as the time some other thoughts more complicated as the sadness of the morning, or my place in the world, I crunched the bread, I picked up the crumbs and I do every morning. Then I go brush my teeth. I brush in the same direction.
I turn on the computer. It is not broken. It starts up very winded. I wait. I certainly think of something. Then I click, I see messages missing. I have a few moments before the blank page of google. Much energy for anything. I switch off.
I leave. Time is no different, although I know it's the last day of sun. I return again. I call my mother and we cry a lot. I told him I'm afraid.
I get out. I have to go for a walk. People do like me, but they are not alone. They come because it's nice and warm. This is perhaps not obvious but it is a good habit they have. They eat out, I see bags of fast food and French fries at the feet of benches. There are mostly families and couples. There are homeless. I give nothing now, no material or light.
I'm done as far as I can. That is to say that I washed with the conviction that I purify myself and it made me more beautiful. I put nice clothes too. I walk to being looked at. And sometimes they look at me, I mean not only for me not to get into it.
to be continued (niark)
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