vars innehåll är direkt hämtat ur en vanlig märklig dröm
som jag drömde ikväll, alltjämt i januari 2020
Today you tried to steer a real car from other streets where
you walked. You almost lost sight of that antiquated Toyota, but managed
by mind power to manoeuvre. As slowly as possible, so no human being
would get hurt.... Before that, you discovered a dog stucked for two
minutes in it's shitting position. When finished, there stood a big
sculpture instead of small poop. Like a horse with eight legs the
sculpture looked. As curious tourists were about to touch this piece of
art, you warned them. What seemed to be public, nice chocolate, was
something private and messy.
[= ytterligare ett par delhistorier gjorda av 100 ord]
Later your old teacher of
social anthropology helped to get the car parked, now steering from the
inside. But that went even more unsure, since he confused your map
interpretations with your questions of how to book a ticket. It would be
needed for that more esoteric, secret lecture. Anyway your Uncle
Timolas already had left a bouquet of tickets lying open, on somone's
veranda where labyrinth wanderers would pass occasionally. How do we end
these threads?? With Timolas grandchildren who have grown two feet
taller than you... though only teens, they manage uplifting your body.
Ancient discs still play.
0W0
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