ultramarine

It was certainly not hard to locate his breath, it was in his chest. Johan, staring out the window, gazing at a crane, delicate on the horizon, a hair thin line dangling, dancing. Joakim, turning back towards the room, a 180-degree pivot, his eyes are mirrors, ugly mirrors. And we discussed, disgust. What was to be done about it? On the riverbank, he was able to discover objective appreciation for physical bodies, male and female. Bodies are not objects (the mere fleshiness constitutes a concrete relationship) an echo of effort, aspiration, an apparition. Something that one might want, want with their hands, want in mirrors, a want for less ugly mirrors.

Johan, slides into the driver seat of his automobile, a clever gesture, and disappears. While we slept, when we woke, the heat settled in like smoke, clear bright, colorful smoke. Joakim returns with a solution, parries with an intellectual remark, psychological rhetoric, claiming syntax, above all, to unpleat her stomach, this had, after all, transformed into a debate. And all the while I was carving new lines into her face. Johan reclined and gained a sense of deliverance from the blue void in front of him. Two words came to our minds “world” “funeral” There are no ghosts etched in the half tones, an absolute zero all will become frozen in dreamless sleep. Tossed and turned. I promise you, my love, that I was only searching for peace.