So there it was at last. This moment, this one. The one. Twinkling, I look down at you, up again, into your eyes, which are mine. I no longer recognize myself.
My memory is distorted, and so I think I do not know you, and I have known you all my life, but my whole life is not true. Someone lives there, in this house, and it is basically empty, always and forever. Old furniture gives the impression of days gone by, yet I haven’t even noticed how they appear one moment only to disappear as soon as I turn around. A haunted house that invites me to live in it, so the ghosts don’t feel so alone; because they don’t really exist. But who wants to live in a haunted house?
Today I am not dwelling, today I am going out to expel the ghosts. I don’t recognize them in you, and in my house it’s the night of the hen party. Dishes fall to the floor, smash against the wall, break into a thousand pieces. They all are laughing, but they do not hear how they’re crying. All of them. None of this is true. So they and you and I step barefoot on the shards and dance like crazy until the shards cut the soles of our feet and everything is soaked in blood. And the dance gets even wilder, the shards digging deeper into the feet, already crunching on the floor. Screams of rapture and pain. And more blood pours out of the feet until the whole floor is covered and no one can stand upright. They fall over each other, laughing hysterically, rolling on the bloodstained floor, sullying themselves with the blood, their blood, your blood, my blood. Greedily they lick your feet, you lick their feet, I lick the floor. Mouths open and close, tongues hang out, eyes twist, bodies twitch. Twitching like crazy. Like fish stolen from the sea, gasping for air, trying to fight death with everything they have. A whole life. The one.
And then I turn around.