Sunday, November 8


"You have to be a writer" sounded so far away from the deep smell hugging all the bodies and minds in the shadowy room. It was just a matter of change of the music's tone, when another searching body was trying to approach a desperate soul. On the other side of the night shift, the elastic bodies on the bar were trying to be replicated by some plastic bodies on the floor next to the barely moving "log"s. "You really have to leave?" No, and yes! Maybe Sigmund was right, all from the beginning. Maybe it is already starting with the baby's first push of its poo out and we can't get away from this addictive feeling afterwards at all; maybe we don't want to get away with it.. Could it really be our choice not to touch, not to kiss, not to have sex of any kind; or, is it just a matter of the modern life's public and safe design that prevents us from spreading our genes around? And yet, we, ourselves create possibilities to rip apart this limiting design and let ourselves out of our mind with our own games.. The question still is, however, if we are the ones creating those borders under the excuse of public modernity yet at the same time if we are the solution providers to naturalize ourselves in body couplings; then, why don't we skip all this unnecessary progress as "a beautiful mind" and right away couple ourselves to the most likely looking touch? If the result is the same, why are we trying to package it under the shadow of eastern lights or in the bath of coctails? To make the present more desirable to each other? To feel more important and valuable? Or is it just the typical fearfull "us" that would like to play safe and keep the emergency exit open until the moment when we couple our most private parts? The beauty is, that in between all this playful struggle to multiply ourselves, there are still these ones, who close their eyes when they listen to the music and open their arms to fly away with their souls, when they dance.. The beauty is, that in between all this body awarding ceremony, there are still the ones bringing a paper cup full of smile and sitting to the pillow next to you like a leaf landing slowly to the water.. Still the ones who makes you think that even if Sigmund is absolutely right in all this sweaty and wet coupling story, that, there is hope of even a tiny moment of a look being more precious than anything else.. Maybe we should "sleep on it", maybe we should "sleep with it" or maybe we should just fall asleep..