(UR: vorgänge / proceedings)
And you open the eyes like a new book in which nothing is still read apart from the first unwritten sentence which is said what it is called in all books one day: Please turn over.
And you know this is the day.
Not one of those spectacular days on which everything allegedly basically changed afterward. No. Simple only a quite ordinary request-turn over day – Reload, how we say here.
Yesterday in the evening you are sat still in front on the beach, have watched the sundown going down. You hurry imaginary, which beauty really can lie in such a daily decline routine. Only your own routine, you have thought at this one, it is nothing more beautiful turn. It has prickled in the soles of the foot already still before the word – reload – and every word resulting from this, found to its letters.
Sat later with the Translator in the canteen. Its translations produced that one tickle kneeabove (from which something never resulted), though at you once. You have laughed like always together. About the small Schismen in the cracks and columns which madly lie in wait there. Waits in the precipices from now on later. Prickling in the brain at such considerations this also has fallen off. For a long time already. Your euphoria at all theory. Please turn over.
You wash your cup. Put it with the opening after below into the cup cupboard. Because of the dust. The dust of the next years. You take a last look out of the window, it is dashed to pieces below with the surf at the sea wall. A little tear sheds tears over it after, but only a tiny one. Because this is the day. Tomorrow, your present is already a museum.
Source: Musée de la mer.
This morning, it still looked so:
Translated by Linguatec
posted by savadee @ 00:25:41