.. Tim's thinking. Is thinking while he's trying to get rid of the eggs, spread all over his kitchen and running in small rivers, like veins, or more like a delta, but not the big ones where the arms never meet again, more one that runs throw a cliff, expands and then, after that big riot, it gets itself together, becomes a small lake, comes to an end. Finally. Tim, down on his knees, with a spong in his hands. In these moments he feels complete. Calmed down. Nothing can cause him trouble, no fear. In total line with the whole univers. If he had the possibility to choose, he would stay cleaning his kitchenfloor for the rest of his life. There were times when he loved his life. Really. He did. Does not mean he isn't doing anymore, it just doesn't bother him. The things he is the most impressed are these blisters, these yellow blisters the eggsauce is creating, while trickling over the tiles and agile sliding over the fugues, the gaps. Faster than the fluid can imagen. Young, fearless and ignorant. In his Kitchen he has about three sorts of tiles. Do look like these one of the 16th century. Did they have tiles in the 16th century? No idea. I Guess they had. Da Vinci loved them, I'm sure. These one on the floor, with blue flowers. I don't have to explain. Over the Dishwasher there are red ones. Just red. The other ones are white, with also a sort of flowers. The red ones must feel as if they are on a place, they do not belong to. But it's were they are. It's theyr home. >>Girls are Always asking me, if I Think about them, while I'm masturbating. Sometimes my Answer is, I do not masturbat. Sometimes I just say that I do not think about anything. I'm just masturbating. What's the use of imaging a big fat butt to come faster. Won't work. I would fall asleep, if I had to do two things. Masturbating and Thinking. Won't work. I would fall asleep. The same problem is with falling in love twice, or three times a day. I'm not created to do so, but I'm doing it. Every Day. I Told You, it won't work. << The way he's acting in that moment, makes him feel, that it's right what he's thinking about. That's the risk that he takes. But he feels Quite sick. As if he had eaten all the eggs in front of him. He didn't. He just wants to feel like that. Formitting? No. Keeping alive, something that never wanted to be kept alive. So far. Quite far Away. It's true, he loves to, but in this moment he feels something, like a voice whispering in his ear, climbing up in his brain, knocking against it. No idea what it's telling exactly. But must be something like "you're worth it to find a way out. Find the missing piece." Sure, the voice I's talking in a language he doesn't speak, but he has to stop. Stands up. The sponge in his hand, the sauce's dropping on the floor. He's ignoring it. Yeah. He's a Man. He's ready for the confrontation with all his fears. Yeah. A Man he is. In the same speed as the Egg-Sauce, his tears are dropping down. The socks are dirty. Smelling like the never used to be. If you see it, you would understand. I won't. But what's the thing he's afraid the most? Was he afraid in his life before, at all? Life definitly lasts longer when you're afraid. But he isn't that old. Old, but not that old. He's becoming a turtle. Soon. Turtles are used to get very old. 800 years. No way. He won't grow any older. The heat of the Lamp over him makes him to move a bit backwards. He never had to change the bulp since he's living in the house. >>Dark.<< that's correct. If there is no light, It usually becomes dark. Darker, when it happens at night. Less, when the sun is shining. A sweet taste in his mouth, a strange feeling in his stomache, woundering what it is all about. A few years ago he met a boy who tried to sell him shorts, shorts with superheros on them, superheros that were cleaning the beach. The boy was speaking very silent, very slowly, not like all other people who wants you to buy their stuff. No, charmin. He bought on of them. Gave him all the the money he had in his pocket, wasn't a lot. The boy was so lucky. Before and after the buy. Not exhausted but happy. He threw away the shorts, after carrying them with him for two hours. The result: for two weeks he couldn't sleep. Wanted to meet the boy again, buy another pair of shorts. No chance to find him. And again he couldn't sleep. For another 7 Days. >>The forrest. The wood.<< Until he found out, that sleeping is not necessary as long he's not eating. He felt asleep. For five days he didn't wake up. When he woke up he saw his arm, blue. No blood inside, because he slept on it. It took three hours until he was able to move it again. The mirror, a strangers Face. Glad that you Exist. He throws away the sponge. Whiping away the tears. His Eyes are rolling over. His head hits the ground. Lies there for about twenty minutes. Suddenly he opens his eyes. >>I'm afraid of the Dark. Afraid of the forrest. These frightening trees, with their Arms which try to catch me. Eat me, as fast as they can. The bears, foxes, a big black raven. They all wanna bite me hard. My Blood. Oh shit. My Heart. I have to go. Got to meet my biggest enemy. Show him, that I'm not afraid of him anymore. I'm gonna kiss him. Eat him. Oh. Maybe I take the ax with me. Just to be Sure. I'm not gonna turn around. No fear. Ha ha! Nobody will ever laugh at me. I will be the one I ever wanted to be. I can reach it. The Point. Eating all the wood and animals, will help me to grow twenty five meters, I'm going to be twenty five meters tall. Will be great. Afraid is where I've been far to long. An ordinary giant. With blood between my teeth.<< He's never going to sleep alone, again.
goes on