Around the corner was the architectures' abode. Open the tattooed main door and to the right was it, with 2 refurbished mailboxes in great contrast with the replastered Berninger and Luc and Steffen. Through the window from my hasty steps, a pair of hands stroke down on a computer whose keyboard is unseen. Unperturbed, I opened the stiff door and trek in with a joint of three tomatoes, ten eggs, and a can of bubbled bamboo shoots. The apartment is on the fourth floor as usual. And today, is another tomato egg soup experiment, with sesame oil.
Rewe is still, not too far away from here. The nasty spot runner with his owner lies parallel on the ground and obsequious. While at the same moment, whoa, Berlin. And all of its clarity of air, click of pumps, and the swooshing-over of cars. 2016! Noted! Three euro sixty-two cents from my MasterCard credit card. And I stepped, rigidly, in my new leather shoes from Galleria Alexanderplatz. There appeared to be a pain, mild enough to be contained, and acute enough to be occasionally felt. It didn't matter too much. I am a man worthy of a decent, gentlemanly gait, and hence would gallop in disregard. I advanced smoothly and softly on the ragged gravel, with the black backpack full of groceries for the indulgence of this day, penis to the left of groin.
Oh well, damn, I say, yet aglad, after all, in spite of the grumbles and hassles, I am indeed back, neither color blind nor amputated, neither starved nor oppressed, only in chronically the same spot, where no cigarettes are lit and no farewell bid. In this cordial, glass-wrapped, steel-coated, aromatized room I awaited. And routinely, I thrice fondled the black cat in her neck. Let us heat up the oil, let it crackle, and pour scattered egg wash on it to calm, and stir well with the tomatoes to serve.
Tomorrow, I revolved, at 10 I must prepare myself, to pop the acnes, to drink the juice, to sit loosely in front of the laptop, and the most important of all, to spray some Axe Black deodorant. It shall be a solemn occasion in which both of us smile and calculate and nod agreeably. But, that can't go extremely well. Since you see, we haven't met, our microbes haven't synchronized, and from the nature of it, no veritable promise is to be made, and no heart-felt emotion is to be welcomed, what remains are only greetings in the moment when uttered, both of us would strive with the decades of respective training to make it ever so cute and neat and soul-crushingly affable. Seriously, Is it not, ma'am? After all, we are just making a living.
I then bent forward to glean. On the wooden tiles were the ashes, and plugged onto the handle was the foolhardy receipt sent with the longings from days ago when I haven't decided to leave. It sat snugly in the crevice, spurned with dust whenever people walk by, enlivening to decay. And there it is again, the twitch. Undaunted in my usual proclivities, I patted gently, to the aged romance in the movies. A procession of resignation in time, stripped of awe, rested on the soft-touched office chair. And I swayed in the old rhyme, rattling and feasting away.
From the everlasting to the everlasting, stories go by. In my ears now is Apple Music I subscribed for 9.99 dollar since two months ago. It blasts out of my flashy Razer Adaro DJ headphones connected to my swapped iPhone 6 Plus, loud and impassioned. The lamps out there have been eternally bright; the people have been eternally asleep; and by the time they wake up:
This is another of the endless days. And tirelessly in the afterglow, the cantor sings.
