I was intimate last night. With a woman, not sexually, not even touchingly, just our thoughts crossed until they formed a synergy of pleasure. Strange, but real. I'm not making it up. I knew her from a course a while ago. Today at the market I met her. We walked together to a café, there... Lees verder →
Bloody Theatre
Meanwhile, the theatre course had thinned out quite a bit, a real slimming down. And as it went on now, it would become an AA - club. The debriefings at the café lasted longer than the rehearsal moments. There were only eight of us (out of 16) until things got out of hand. The two... Lees verder →
Where can I find … ?
Our lovely teacher, Mr. Colbert, is kind enough to draw the inner networks of computers on the blackboard and wipe it with the same dirty wet sponge every time. Because of that sponge, everything is very fluid, than he immediately writes over it so he doesn't waste time and as a result, the chalk becomes... Lees verder →
Dematerialising
I feel empty in an absurd world that cannot satisfy me. Then I move to other dimensions. This already works when I concentrate on the touch between my body and the matter around me, and it is as if I become a part of it, it merges with me. A symbiosis between the thing in... Lees verder →
ICT Class
Surely every year on whatever for school you apply, there is always one of those completely useless courses taught by a fossil. Now this one is clad in a dirty green" colbert", too small "plastron" and brown too-high-fitting slacks. I originally looked forward to this course impressively titled "Computer Science with Introduction to New Communication... Lees verder →
Lost Theatre Love
I met her during a theatre course. The first lesson, we had to improvise in pairs of two, I immediately scolded her for 'bitch' and 'whore', with the rest of the students applauding loudly. It was fiction. Screaming it out for a moment felt great. Sparks splashed out of my eyes, I was totally in... Lees verder →
That other world
I can't focus. I am already in ecstasy when I only touch the gently broken texture of the paper in front of me. The structures of the writing, not seeing them but feeling them. Rub them with my fingertips or with my downy dry lips and then read them aloud, gently blowing, breathing in and... Lees verder →
Fastfood romantics 