Broken

The phone rings irritatingly long. Finally the answering machine kicks in. "Donald here. What's the matter with you? You know what we agreed on when we started up. Show up at the Beauburg at six o'clock if you want a job. And remember to delete this shit!". Don has been complaining about your increasing unreliable behaviour. Fuck him. You're his best man. Let him wait. You stretch out on your bed, which is really just a yellowing mattress in a brass sleigh without any blankets, sheets or pillows.

One thing that has never been easy for you is sleeping. Most of your nights you roll around for a few hours after laying down before you fall asleep. Your head hurts and your teeth feel like they're going to fall off. You switch sides one or two times, trying to canalize Mrs Faith and her sax away, but already after a few minutes your consciousness lets go.



. . .













White.









All is white.















A woman sits in front of me in a chair. Pale as snow. I look at his face.














She's beautiful.




Beautiful.















Long, raven black hair. Thin, tall body.

















I look at the roof. There is none. The walls raise to an endless light. It makes me feel comfortable.

















The woman has silvery eyes. Thin lips and a long, delicate nose.























His mouth opens. White, shining teeth and a dark red tongue.










His lips move, but… I can't hear anything.























I sit on the ground in front of her and lay my head on her lap.
















W a r m.