Smells like a soft kiss. Memories are not only from the past, but also from today, or even tomorrow. My good, good intentions remain misunderstood; don’t they know I carry the weight of our world on my shoulders? Maybe they don’t? It’s not impossible, as my eyes remain placed in deep holes, shadowed body cavities—needless to say all audiovisual contact with me is doomed to be rather constricted. Perhaps after my upcoming departure they will look deep inside their hearts and discover that it is me who always was their dearest friend, irreplaceable confiant, source of hope and joy, their rock and anchor. At night, this sheer thought grants my tired brain a longly awaited sleep.  Whenever I manage to rest my head, I still dream of my sibling, whom I never met, and who was born for a reason but has no purpose… It seems we’re both just eccentric like that.

Half awake, still with my eyes closed, I listen closely to the ambient sounds of the old house; not without surprise I slowly map my surroundings backwards. I am laying in bed upside down.