1.
and i said ; "youre still not the type to be googled." youre part of this generation that can still hide somewhere in the unknown spheres of rural backhole.some sphere more real.nothing so vague and foggish. youre so very proud of that. i was laughing, i remembered the pictures i took of you and that actually were online.
but if i want to look at you, i can only meet you or get swapped away in my head. the small set of gestures and your smile comes up again.smiling foolishly. i remember some summer morning i woke up next to you, already awake and smiling.you had your arm around me. there was music in the back.soft and calm. it played the notwist with „good lies“. listening to it i started feeling so bad. i felt as if i was cheating you and especially cheating on you. my head back then was pure betrayal. i was playing your mistress when i should have played girlfriend.at best; no acting at all.
„its as if im standing in a lightened room during night, everything being dark and im completely visible but everything else, everything outside of this room, is a mystery to me. you can see me but i cant see you“ you said. then.no more quiet,fast breathing under the blanket of love.
then i found you in a magazine. through all those letters your picture appeared. sometimes i even just forgot about you. seeing you again. „why is this important to you?“ you asked, and i dont know if it was just naked vanity or the feeling of being held back. in fact,i cant even tell you if it really ever mattered to me. ive been searching and hiding and you simply seem like the place to be.
2.
the waiting was interminable. i do not know how much time passed on the clock, that nameless and universal time of clocks that is alien to our emotions, to our destinies, to the inception and ruin of love, to a death vigil. but my own time was a vast and complex temporal space filled with figures and turnings back, at times dark and tumultous river at times a strange calm like a motionless, eternal sea where facing each other with ecstatic happiness; then again it was a river pulling us back as if in a dream to our childhoods, and i saw myself in my small town in the south, in my sickroom, with my face pressed to the windowglass, watching the snow, my eyes, too hallucinated. and it was as if the two of us had been living in parallel passageways.
later when i realized that this has become indispensable,that i was like someone dying of hunger, who will unconditionally accept anything offered, but later once the greatest urgency has been satisified, gradually begins to complain of problems and inconveniences. vanity, pride and arrogance that seemed to have been permanently obliterated begin to creep back, showing themselves with greater insolence, as if in reaction to shame of having fallen so low.
