Männer (Men)
publishing date: 15.12.2015
Aino:
His hands were almost exactly like hers, only bigger and stronger.
They had similar nails, the same colour of skin and they both wore
a simple golden ring in their ring finger.
He was married with her mother and she with his son in law.
The son in law and the father in law had once grabbed each other hard with their fists and fought in the yard. Before doing that, they had been drinking for hours, but failed to knock each other down that way. There had been bruises and blood, but they covered them with bandages and silence over the next days.
She had tried to approach him with words for countless of times, but he had an ability to remain silent and turn his back at her. Everything she said would bounce back at her. So instead of getting an answer that she was yearning for, she would only hear her own question, and remained in a loop wondering whether he loved her, even indirectly, or not at all.
Her mother had long ago stopped trying to evoke emotion in him, or trying to understand what was going on in his mind. She was weak and had no life energy left in her. She would prepare the meals in silence and go rest while the others were eating and feed her self with the leftovers later.
So nobody knew.
But some nights, when they were all sleeping in their beds in the full darkness or twilight, depending on the season and on the hour, they would wake up by some terrible yelling from the forest that surrounded the wooden house they lived in, and they knew it was him. At those moments they knew how he felt.
Sabrina:
Aino, what a troublesome title this time!
I spill the beans, I used some tricks to avoid a deeper written thought on some of our titles through this adventurous year: being so busy simply not able to write a story, writing quite a short poem, just transcribing a dream or the excuse that there is too many memorable moments to choose from that would undoubtedly fit a title… Men…
I find them charming once in a while.
So sexy when they do what they are good at and pretty adorable when life just happens to them, when they least expect it. We both talk a lot about them and it is not really helping. That is why I only came up with a subtitle 'so far'.
'Three dyslexic brothers working together in the library.'
I know this is asking for more but since germans are known for their splendid humour this will be a quicky and I better end it right here.
Famous
publishing date: 15.11.2015
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Aino:
`Hello sweetheart, do you want to go for a ride? `
The door of the white cadillac was open, and a man was smiling broadly from behind the wheel. He was coloured, muscled, and wore a black t-shirt, training pants and sunglasses. I guess he was coming straight from a gym.
` Not right now baby.` I said, while lowering my shades in order to make eye-contact. My eyes were topped by long fake lashes and I wore jade green contacts.
His smile died suddenly on his face and he turned a bit pale, slammed the door, put the pedal to the metal and vanished behind the next corner.
I was famous for the trick.
I enjoyed performing it just as much every time.
I knew how hot I looked, and I didn’t have to do anything about it.
Just a little shaving but I’d do that anyway.
Well, boops required some creative effort but I enjoyed stuffing different
Quantities of different materials in my wifes bra and see how they felt.
It was not my fault that the guys freaked out when they heard my voice, in each case lower than their own.
Let them go, I wouldn’t fuck them anyway.
Sabrina:
“I am known for exaggeration, everything I say, they say, you better divide it by two.”
The tradition was to cover the whole city with balloons, thousands of helium filled balloons.
No cloud could keep up with this carpet of dots.
People from all the neighbouring places would leave their houses and march for days to be blown away by this stunning festivity.
The balloons would be delivered all mixed up, hours before.
There would be pink balloons next to red ones, brown next to yellow ones.
Screaming colours next to each other with their strings possibly permanently entangled.
The light striking the ground through the balloons would make any flower close its petals. The strings were so messed up, not a single one had the same length.
The few tall citizens, living in this city, would wear sticky gloves, trying to arrange the balloons by colour and pull the strings straight. Finally, the amount of balloons stacked on top of each other would bend down to the ground, one balloon would manage to fly off and the carpet would collapse. To this day, not one person has confirmed to have seen a single balloon since.
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Trial
publishing date: 15.10.2015
Sabrina:
Car lamps approaching at night.
A modern dentist chair turning in circles with no one on it.
The leather steering wheel looking blue in the dark.
The fake curly brown hair of a tangible puppet.
Wooden cute looking sticks along the road.
Morph.
A flappy corner of the newspaper trembling in the wind.
A stiff golden bracelet made of thin ornaments with a red stone in the middle.
The trumpet fixed to a flagstaff.
A greenish white bag hanging over the saddle of a horse.
The arrow shooting into a piece of cloth or paper.
A savoury red rose, following each petal from the inside to the outside.
A perfect tornado turning into a roller coaster changing into piano keys,
the keys slide into a bucket of paint,
mixing the paint with a stick, turning white traces through the turquoise paint.
When ever I close my eyes to play this game, first thing I always see is a ladybug.
Aino:
The one who is physically weaker carries the
One who is physicaly stronger on their back
for a period of time that is significantly longer
than any game would be.
Interaction is suppresed and all energy is used instead to
maintain the challenging posture that obviously gets
gradually more painful.
Instead of words there is skin contact that covers almost a half
of the surface of both bodies.
Olafur Eliasson would title this piece contact is not connection.
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Full Moon
publishing date: 15.09.2015
Aino:
Had the moon been full that night, their story might have formed itself differently.
It was half when she asked him:
' which one has more potential, the half moon or the full moon?
' the full moon, of course.' He said.
' I think that the half moon has, assuming we know it will be full.'
' off course we don't know if it will be full. ' he said firmly and the discussion was ended there.
Once, as they were lying in the bed she felt suddenly very close to him. It came to her mind to ask him about his past.
He felt her intention and turned to look at her at the same time as she turned to look at him.
They smiled, and her question faded away with a quick touch of his lips with her lips.
An other time, after walking for hours on the streets, he suddenly felt so happy with her, that in his sudden generosity he wanted to ask her out for dinner, what he would usually never do. But he had not brought his wallet. He even told her he would go and get it, but she said no because she did not want to loose any of the time she could have with him.
'Did you miss me?' She asked quietly.
'I missed you so much I thought I will die.'
'Good that we are here now.'
'Good that we are here.'
The last dialog is an internal one that forms in her head while she's biking home in one afternoon, making slight curves to the side of the others by accident and having her eyes fixed to the front looking like shes looking further on the road, but in fact she is looking over his naked shoulder while he's squeezing her naked butt with in his big hands, and pressing his swallen dick into the bottom of her vagina.
That night the moon got full, and they were not together anymore.
publishing date: 15.06.2015
Sabrina:
I do remember plenty of moments, thinking of the full moon, lovely, dramatic, exciting and exhausting ones.
I stared at the gleaming circle in many ways. But I have no clue which one to tell, while some are better be forgotten by now. It is not that I can not choose, it might just not be the right time to kneel down and watch the grass growing.
Sleep tight and sweet dreams.
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individual title
publishing date: 15.08.2015
Sabrina:
THE MANUAL FOR FOAM
The light shines through the blue fabric, that moves carelessly left and right.
It squeaks when you attempt a comfortable position and its colour is so intense, it turns the room into a deep sea. The strings are firmly tightened between the walls and shape the blue fabric, like thick water running through little holes.
“If you lay diagonal the whole body is in a straight position, that's how they do it in Venezuela”. He is wearing worn out grey jeans tightened with a stately brown belt and an off white shirt with rolled up sleeves. His short brown hair just had a haircut, looking like he came straight out of the shower. There he stands with his agile posture, awaiting the moment that was promised to him.
His fine shaped mouth shows a smile that combines uneasiness with the pure excitement of the unknown.
He manages to rest his head on the green pillow, that curls like a caterpillar protecting itself from an enemy. You can buy this pillow at the brand new shop that sells anything you would need for any sport, in 300m2. Cheap climbing shoes, small skateboards, modern swimsuits and all size yoga clothes.
His feet are bent over the void, heated by the approaching sun from around the corner.
The effective hammock is still swinging from left to right, while the white walls block the only view of the unfamiliar. The window in front of him interrupts it all and his eyes stare at the blue sky. He imagines the tubes, piercing the sky, being the chimneys of steam ships cruising this neighbourhood like enormous creatures that rove unnoticed with their silhouettes.
Only now, when his gleaming eyes caught the rooftops surrounded by cute and slightly dramatic flowing clouds, that he notices the music repeating an intangible melody. The rhythm is so far-reaching, it morphs everything, all ingredients become one.
It lasts fifteen minutes and will almost certainly never be repeated again.
Aino:
THERE ARE NO SPIDERS AT THE BEACH
They meet unregularily every week. The days in between provide a time that is needed to build up a tension, which they like to release from each other on the table, on the chair, on the washing machine, on the floor, against the wall and sometimes in bed.
Her legs get weak when he touches her.
He's hard, warm and gentle.
At the end they don't agree about the rules. She decides she does not want to build up tension. Days become longer like that. Long like snakes lying at the beach in the hot sand, tail reaching far far out, until it touches the water.
They both say they don't care, and think of the nights they spent together only sometimes.
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Ours
publishing date: 15.07.2015
Aino:
Oh my god that’s it!!!
She was screaming all exited and pointed the yellow streamlined caravan with her finger, on which shined a fake diamond.
That’s exactly the way I always wanted to have it for us! Hon, can we buy it right away?
Her husband was standing next to her, and his sunglasses were reflecting everything, so that one could never see his eyes or guess what he was thinking of, or his feelings.
She started going through her pink leather purse and pulled out a little notebook which was covered with leopard fur imitation. She quickly found the page where her checklist was.
She started to go through the check list very quickly. I only had the time to answer her questions with a yes or a no.
We got only about a half of yes, as the house was less well equipped from what she had thought. I noticed that her list was titled ´ absolute minimum requirements for our dreamhouse`. She striped away the the items that were not in, such as `Jacuzzi`or ´Waterbed with an integrated soundsystem`, put her notebook back into her bag, squeezed my arm and said: ‚`Don’t you move, I’ll be right back!
She was so exited and went to her husband who had moved further to smoke. I saw her clinging to his arms, performing little jumps that she managed without a problem with her high heels, and giving little kisses on his mouth and cheeks while explaining all at the same time.
Then they went to their car, and after a moment her husband came out, walked to me and handed over a check.
I asked the assistants to attach the caravan behind their car.
As they had already started to drive away, the car suddenly stopped and the lady came out, running towards me. The cloud of her perfume surrounded me before she did. She took my arm, looked at me in the eyes and said in a high voice that trembled from exitement: Sir, it’s my fourtyeighth baby!!!!
Sabrina:
The Tabula Rasa prevailed a while ago, before it was folded like a paper plane. Each fold was marked by a stain and each fold made flying more and more achievable.
The plane explored the strong, bright red Swiss Army knife suspended from the doorway. The knife presented its sharp scissors, tried the stubborn bottle opener and used its defined nail file. The paper plane liberated itself from the complexity of the Swiss knife, and left with stringed flapping wings.
One option was to land on the kitchen table, a table with metal legs and a plasticised surface, standing in the center of the room and determined not to bent a leg. When the paper plane realised the vase with perfectly shaped flowers on top of the table, it maneuvered underneath, to be able to take the blow and ascent. It all happened in seconds, buckling the paper nose irreversibly.
It guardedly drifts, heading to the shelf near the clean window, right towards a sparkling spray bottle, with no label. Who could have known what was in the bottle. While a sprinkling sound took over every bit of the room, the paper plane was surrounded by a charming breeze at first, suddenly the air got all misty and acrid.
The stained and heavily soaked paper wings just made it through the window.
"I am certainly not going back in there."
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Because
publishing date: 15.06.2015
Sabrina:
You astonish me over and over again.
The doors and curtains just closed and people squeezed next to each other on the floor. The lights were dimmed and a tensed body was laying on the floor covered by an unframed painting of a woman.
I remember these paintings so well, the soft dreamy like faces of reoccurring women, the beautiful red and blue and the wallpaper patterns. They used to hang on laundry wire in her studio, one behind another, filling the room with the smell of wet paint.
You put white gloves on and picked up another canvas, holding it up so it would not touch the ground. So fragile and massive at the same time.
The body on the ground got covered by another painting and changed position according to the woman on the canvas.
The smooth motion drew the total symbiosis and it was then, when that painted woman became alive, that all my cells felt the tragedy, that immense energy, the pain I was not able to protect you from.
My skin shivers while I sat close to the ground, wiping my tears.
The room was filled with jangling silence until your voice started to sing a lullaby. Anything else I felt became trifling and vain and I saw again that beaming person that you are.
You truly inspire me. You are my family.
Aino:
The skirt was too short but she wore it anyway.
Did she know? Maybe she just didn’t care.
I could not tell, what might have been going on in her mind and in her body while she was dressing up and was about to hit the streets.
Did she love herself? Did someone love her?
That’s what I wondered as my eyes fixed on to her round buttocks that peaked from below that dress that was too short, as she walked in to the underground and choose a seat in parallel row in front of me.
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Premature/Untimely
publishing date: 15.05.2015
Aino:
Premature
They are not real waves that bring the water from the horizon, as they disappear without breaking.
It’s not dark anymore.
I hear no loud tourists who have lost their friends or their whisky glass or their bottle of beer.
I’m not wearing a thing except for your green army jacket on my shoulders.
Love at the beach before sunset
Sabrina:
Untimely
'The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once.' (Albert Einstein)
The brown boxes cover half of the floor, open and empty. Standing there, cramped next to each other, waiting to be categorized. The exhausted window is opening and closing with a squeaky noise. It is pushing the office chair along the ruff corner of the table.
The chair refuses to stay up and rolls on for no reason. Pushing towards the door, back to the window, to the dirty mirror, towards the shelve and back to the outdated counting machine. He is pausing in front of the plastic surface. Watching the pencils rearrange. They try hard to find their favorite neighboring color pen. Yellow, blue, green, brown, red, pink, purple and many shades of grey. One rolls, all roll. The compass strives to interfere by spinning circles and hits the glowing box. The box that loves to duplicate pictures of underwear attached to a flag post, if the bulky printer is too lazy to swing its wire. The green brush is finishing the job after the eraser bounced through plenty of thin lines. So everyone can start anew.
If these brown boxes would have legs on their own they would not be pattering with joy, but instead stopped believing in it a while ago.
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Body
publishing date: 15.04.2015
Sabrina:
'That one must have been here for more than a hundred years'.
While being boggled by the fact he wraps his arms around it for no transcendental reasons, scratching a bit of his chin on its fossil skin.
He is standing on his toes, which are safely covered in bulky shoes, to reach even further. Pulling the rope tight as he can, his fingers shake with force as he brunts two knots into one loop on both sides.
That soft piece of plastic-like fabric is stuffed in its own bag.
'How convenient!'
He is pulling it out to let it breathe into its full size, and if it could, it would head for the hills. The wind blows strong, but nothing much can stand against a hundred years of stoicism. There it flutters, tightly knotted, ready to do what it is meant to do. She pushes one side of the fabric down, balancing on her toes which are covered in old leather with a hole.
It ruffles against her bottom when she insistently forces it down to slide into the soft shell. Rolling her body to the left and right, moving her legs and arms like the beetle in Kafka's Metamorphosis.
It all ends with a soothing sigh.
Aino:
She was sitting on the floor her eyes closed and her legs crossed, holding her back straight and forming loops with her two middle fingers and thumbs through which the energy was flowing, breathing in and out long spirales of air, that was building up a slow tornado, capturing in its vacuum the whole landscape of her emotions from the very first disappointments, fears and tears to the later developed emotional structures which had taken over all the free space she had in her mind and kept her captive in her own body, and made them fall apart letting the little broken pieces fly around like snowflakes, and she swore never letting them to freeze in fixed positions again.
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Governement
publishing date: 15.02.2015
Aino:
Each time
I started to write
about something else than the pain
the pain in me
became so strong
that I had to write about it
in order
to be able to write
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Circumstances
publishing date: 15.01.2015
Sabrina:
Sitting with both knees on a padded chair
How did he get up there?
Breathing hot air
Squeezing gently her red nose
The clouds push together till it snows
Are you sure those are black crows?
The chair could use a stitch or eight
Before its too late
Come on finish your plate
Wondering how a wave could possibly be
publishing date: 15.12.2014
Aino:
A tiny bit of grayish smoke leaked from the seam of the slanted horizon into the sky that apart from it was bright orange. The color was reflected from all the surfaces that I could see. I sat on a rock and held my toes in the warm lake. Even the water was bright orange and glowing.
I was overwhelmed by the intensity of the color, and I felt how the the thick air and the warm water embraced me as I would be embraced by a man, and the loneliness that had waighed on my heart for several days was diluting.
I stood up to undress my defence suit that I had been wearing so long time, that my skin had turned pale under it. I had little cuts on my waist and on my back right on the places where my weapons had been hanging. I piled up my clothes on the stone on a flat spot that shimmered orange. The glow came from that new red planet that had appeared to the sky some months ago and had first looked like a red star. Now it had come so close, that it looked like a red full moon. The temperature had increased steadily ever since and in the last days it had been a pain to wear clothes.
I carefully slided my body through the silky surface of the water. The liquid was very warm and so salty that I could easily turn around an lie on my back and float like i was lying on a matress. I kept my eyes closed but I kept seeing orange. The salt burned on my wounds.
I wondered how many days there would be left until it would be too hot to survive. It passed my mind to think how gently I could let myself die now just by putting my head down into the water and stop breathing instead of getting killed by the rising heat in a yet unknown way.
The decision to stop fighting had matured in my mind for quite some time, and only now I had become ready for it. I had not been hard to step out of my harness and to abandon it to the rocks. It had even felt good to surrender my wounded body to the waves to let them lick gently through it.
I had to ask myself why I had not been ready before, although I knew that this kind of thoughts were not useful. Why had I not been ready when there were still others.
It was one of the very last days, and only a few organisms were still breathing under water but none of them was like me. I stared at the red planet until my eyes started hurting, and then I looked down to the sea bed through the thick mass of water. Something down there was transmitting an other color. I dived down to see what it was. The water was even warmer down, and the salt burned my eyes. My throat begged for fresh water. I could reach the object and I brought it up with me. I was holding a bottle in my hand. There was something coming out from its neck that looked like a corner of a paper. I pulled it out gently and read:
´ For the last person on the earth. You are the one.'
The other side of the paper was empty.
I spit in to the bottle three times and pulled a few hairs from my head and inserted them into the bottle. I placed the bottle next to my suit on the rocks. The bottle was still green and everything else was orange. I went back into the lake, turned to lie on the wet hills and closed my eyes.
Happy
publishing date: 15.11.2014
Sabrina:
The shade of happy we call relief.
For some reason I thought the hooks and screws were on this side of the lane, but instead I got lost between toilet seats and plastic pipes. I carried this little red basket, which I unfolded at the entrance, knowing I wont even need it. Purely for self-assurance, like standing at a rock-concert holding onto a drink. I think the 8mm hooks will do and I make my way back downstairs, but not before strolling through the sunny lamp department. Square shapes, balls, complicated geometric shapes, white, red, plastic, paper, glass, for the kitchen or next to the couch, anything that warms your heart and my ears at that moment.
I was excited to get home and put that extra window up on the wall, while I got onto that metal moving beast, which would bring me down slowly, very slow. The escalator, the moment of contemplation about what we took and what else we need or thinking about how nice it was yesterday. It is determined, once you are on it, there is no way back.
I passed three or four home builders till I had no one in front of me. I was all to myself enjoying the straight forward view, a view you breathe in after the effort of climbing to the top of a mountain. I was standing steady on both my feet enjoying the rhythmic shaking of the escalator. How often do we have the chance to get around without even moving.
All that moving stopped the moment I took one glance towards my left, the opposite lane that brings people up to get lost between paint buckets.
It took a millisecond to recognize that face, a millisecond to take back my eyes looking down at the grey lane. I felt my heart beating way faster then that rhythmic shaking, an uncomfortable heat was rising from my throat up to my face. That slow heat taking over like stepping into the bathtub. Why didn't I stay behind the other people. Oh damn that escalator was moving so slow. Phone, in which pocket do I have my phone?! Basket?! Oh yes two hooks. The escalator set me free.
What would I have done without the basket.
publishing date: 15.10.2014
Aino:
'Hey you got some?'
It’s the third time I get asked that question in the past hour. This time it’s a tall blond female dressed in a long black dress that is carved open from the front. She drags her skinny boyfriend behind her in a dog leash that is tied around his neck. His black hair stands straight up and and his leather boots are heavy from metal chains which rattle as he walks behind her.
The ones who have been asking, have all got the same inverted look on their faces. Their eyeballs lay deep, and they seem to be sucking the light from their surroundings.
The place is crowded and I don’t recognize anyone here. I have forgotten why I came. People around me all look similar, like they belonged together. It’s a tribe dressed in black clothes, leather and simple metal jewelry. They’ve gathered here, where hypnotic rythmic sounds fill the space and lick the cold concrete walls up to the ceiling that is so high that it looks like the starless sky was above us.
The cube is made of metal, stone, concrete, and glass, like a carcass of a snail. We are the flesh that moves inside of it. We are alive inside of the static structure whose only moving parts are some doors here and there which open and close.
I get myself a drink and then move towards to the sweating crowd next to the window and the man behind the decks. At this location the snail is moving in sync with the beat of the music. Some individual heads rise up and smile, others don’t seem to have any other task than to obey the rythms which the massive speakers spit out like a dragon spitting fire.
One warrior approaches me. He is tall and the top part of his hair is tied up above his head and the rest of it is shaved. His way of moving makes me forget everything else around me, even the hellish screams of the track. I see his shirt shimmering in the dim light under his black jacket that almost reaches his anckles and covers his neck, his back and his arms like a shield. He looks fresh like a wind walking through the crowd, and in my mind I throw him in an other landscape. I watch him walking through the seaming emptiness of a desert. When he gets very close I close my eyes. I feel the music entering all my cells. I feel hands on my cheecks, and warm, tasty lips on my lips and something entering my mouth. It’s a fast and soft movement in the middle of the moving crowd and a sound that make you loose the sense of proportions and time.
I slowly open my eyes and I don’t see him anymore. I look around, and I spot him further at the bar greeting some people and smiling.
I let the moment go and let the music enter all my cells again. I don’t know what parts of my body I’m moving but feel a motion, a smooth flow of all my muscles working together to launch my body into the surf on the soundwaves that travel around in the space and bounce back and forth from the individual bodies and penetrate their soft tissues.
I got some.
I got some incredible happiness.
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Interchangeable
publishing date: 15.09.2014
Sabrina:
It is round, I am certain it is not half a circle, making its way down like a ballon carrying heavy helium. The beams are shooting high up through the dense matter which is purely steam when you move through it. A tower of white bricks is blocking my view towards the left. The fluffy matter floats while leaving almost no traces. Under it a piece of fabric that is shaking in an uncontrolled way, making it impossible to read the message. To the right the constant changing randomness which possibly holds more then we like to imagine. The glowing of the circle gets more intense with each millimeter downwards. Four black dots change their coordinates with that unknown ease, like a paper plane landing under the table. Now the fine drawn black peaks have the chance to pierce the circle, they do and nothing changes. All of the sudden a rhythmic sound pushes into my ears forcing me to look to my right. I wait till it's gone, looking at the beams getting wider. Two towers move from left to right, slowly disappearing again. It is impossible to say what is fixed and what not, like a chameleon deciding to find more prey somewhere else.
Aino:
The white stripe on the ground is onehundredandsixty steps long.
A shorter horizontal line marks its both ends.
We are standing one in each end, facing each other.
People have gathered around to watch us.
My muscles are tense and I feel sweat dripping down my spine.
My throat feels dry and I press my tongue firmly against my teeth.
I can see you clearly from this distance.
You stand up straight, legs slightly spread and properly rooted in the ground, like me.
Your arms hang down along your body.
You are holding a bow on you left hand and you have six arrows in a half cut tube on your back, just like I do.
We have got ten seconds to talk.
When an arrow gets released from the tension of the bow, it will reach its target in less than two seconds.
After one second it will have released three of its titanic hulls, and expose a thin needle made of steel that travels through the air, and penetrates the body at a carefully selected spot.
I’m not going to give you anesthesy as a first shot.
I will not give a Prince Albert either.
I wait for a few more seconds in order to let the channels build up between us.
It would be dangerous to shoot before having let a proper connection to build up between our bodies.
I feel the tension altered slightly, and I know I’m ready.
I focus, my eyes, lift up my arm and release the tension of the bow.
I see an explosion of green light in front of me that has the shape of your body.
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After
publishing date: 15.08.2014
Sabrina:
Next thing I was sitting on a swing. It had a wooden, worn out seat hanging from perfectly knitted ropes.
My friend was about to push me so I could start swinging. His face was covered in a beard and his hair was combed straight back. His jeans were dirty, held up by a fine leather belt, his striped socks wouldn't show because his shoes were tightened too high.
He was speaking on the phone while he was standing right next to me, putting his arm around my head, holding me close to his side. He was wearing a warm sweater, like a sailor. It was made of soft and strong white wool, the waist band of his sweater displayed a winter scene in blue. If I would dare to open my eyes I would have had wool all around me. A sweet smell sneaked into my nose, reminding me of the smell of my cat after she'd been hugged by a person I would love to be around.
He dangled us slightly left and right while still being on the phone. His soothing dark voice would just make it through the thick wool into my ears. It felt super cosy. Then he started to push me on that swing back and forth, soon I swung very high up. He pushed me so hard that I could've looped-the-loop. I let my feet slow me down by brushing the wavy Persian rug on the floor. He warned me: "No, don't do it, only one person ever did it before, it doesn't turn out well."
But I did. Sliding off the swing, landing on my right foot first and turning
back towards a messy wardrobe, that cut a corner of the room. The wardrobe doors were wide open. My eyes followed the knitted ropes closely through a magnifying glass, leading me to the dusty top of the wardrobe. I was puzzled, only one rope was firmly secured, the other one was much longer and just lay in a coil on top. "What? All this time, it was only fixed like this? That's impossible."
Aino:
I.
They had finished their third day together.
They were sleeping and the bed they were sleeping on was floating in the sea.
A purple light shined from below coloring the water. The glow was emitted by little bugs who decended from above the clouds to the bottom of the sea at each sunset.
It was very quiet.
By that time their bodies had become aware about the complexity of the lanscape that folded out between them and they were both delighted about the different shapes and colors it had.
She enjoyed being a woman when he was around, and he felt the need to be a man around her.
She challenged him sexually to avoid emotions as he challenged her emotionally.
She tried to get away with it and she did. She didn’t know what tricks he had played by then, and didn’t know him well enough to estimate, if he would know if he would have played some.
It felt peaceful and the space around them was the same space as it always had been. It was the deep dark space with cold air and circular movements. The one they were both made of.
II.
On the third scene they started acting differently. They ignored each other completely, so radically, that it looked like they did not recocknize their own species in each other even. The stage became like an aquarium with a fish and a plant that shared the space having nothing to do with each other. They were there together only to please the spectator, not for each other. Would the fish be sad if the plant was taken out one day? No. Would the plant be sad if the fish was gone? Just as sad as you think. Their relation to each other was based on the space they existed in. It was purely mathematical. Simply mathematical, and maybe a bit thematical because of the previous scenes where there had been love, hate and all those invisible things that draw people together and make them move in front of each other.
While the two men performed the long pantomime, the volume increased heavily and the wavy soundscape became more complex and gained new notes. Some sound waves started playing with each other for short moments here and there.
The men who used to go crazy about each other in charming ways, were still acting like walking dead, very much turned into themselves. I really missed who they had been. I missed what had been going on between them. I wanted him to say once more that he found him gorgeous by putting his hand on his cheek, tilting his head slighly and smiling with his eyes. But then I realized how horrible it would look now as they had started acting. It would look like a dead would greet a dead after a fake life. A pseudo life of some fake death freaks. The ones who thought they lived when they actually just acted during a given period of time.
The sound was forming into something like a melody. One would also start noticing tiny little lights appearing in the darkness behind the two men, like stars so far away that you have to work hard with your eyes to see them. The stars started blinking and forming shapes. The sound was super loud now and the lights performed a complicated choreography that was sometimes in sync and sometimes independent from the sound. The actors finally looked at each other, or at least to each others direction. Then they bowed at each other and left the stage as the audience exploded in applause.
I felt so betrayed I could not stand up from my seat but stayed somewhat glued to it by the heat that my body had produced until all the seats got empty, the stage was cleared and the lights slided into a complete darkness by a programmed operation of the sound technician who had already walked out from the building by then.
III.
The ticking of the clock hits a rythm into my peace like when looking at a planted forest from the train. I don’t get annoyed, but let the time divide the oneness into endless number of particles that vanish, as I quickly lose count of these little units with no identities.
Archive 2014 - 2015
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