Wednesday
is the air. Literally. It seems as though the day already begun thirty degrees, our home is groaning under the heat. Mars, Anja and I have been awake for eight, because there is no way to continue to the bedroom. Saving as I had the idea to provide us with bowls of cold water under the kitchen table, in which we all hold inside our feet while we watch television and turns with our heads tilted forward and just fall asleep.
streamlined After about three hours, Mars refer to as an undead stumble to the fridge obsolete, out three nectarines, oranges and eggs, and begins to sizzle, and whittle. I can only squint over to Anja, who shares my impression that it borders on insanity, even thinking about food. My stomach and my gullet - I imagine, I can feel exactly how they stick dehydrated from the strains. But, shit, yes! Drinking! This is an idea. I laugh. That's life when one is not used to the getting up early - you forget the most trivial things.
"Trinkäääään", whining, and I slowly tortured in the round, looking helpless and stretch an arm forward like Hansel-and hope Anya's mother that I wake feelings, she hands me something approaching.
But she still looks anguished over to Mars, also stretched out her arm and repeated
"Trinkääähääään! Jehehehehetzt ".
Every person who does not know us would respond immediately to the idea, we would merely effeminate, childish student pack, but not as Mars, there is much to enjoy it if he uses is just begging to. He lets out his hand from the pan, brings more oranges, orange juice pressed from us and to bring 3 bottles of mineral water from the store. Like a hungry pack of bargain hunters, we gasping in the orange juice glass in record time down, sighing loudly, and easier to tilt after the tepid mineral water into us. Anja crowns this entertaining show with a fervent, yet profoundly delicate, feminine belch. Mars kisses her on the forehead and forgives us.
I assure him then that he was the best roommate in the world and that would, if I were a woman, cherish certain fixed intentions towards him, despite all the Platonic love for Anya, who hears when she blogs, only pricked with the tongue flicks, taps me on the shoulder and breathed in in scratch sovereignty a "Dream on" in my face. Your breath smells after eight hours of sleep and orange flesh.
Erotic.
"Say dreams, it also sucks more so when it is warm outside?" Asks us Mars suddenly, while he continued rumstochert in the pan with the egg.
"No, why" answers Anja, while I remember how uncomfortable my dream that night was. The dream that has led the Heat to find that I had to wake up so early.
"Well, sometimes I dream then that it burns. Not so nice. "
" Today I actually dreamed a fucked up shit, "I'll throw," because I did not at all when you wake up, if I'm sweaty from the heat or the excitement. "
"The bad sounds."
I nod to Mars.
"That would interest me now, but already, what did you dream well."
I go ponder, try zusammenzustreichen the pictures again. Is often just shortly after the dream still exactly clear what I was dreaming, so that I imagine I could never forget, but most of those memories disappear within a few hours. .. "
I tell them about a dream in which I caught my parents' house am and from the outside first and then do robbers invade cannibal children. After the house is littered with the bloody children, I save myself in which I slaughtered before they can eat me.
"That was again tight," Mars now and amazed me to see how the two stare at me as a sigh of relief only with fever and sudden.
"Oh MY GOD! I think I would get a heart attack, in this dream. " I look to Anja and notice how your hand trembles. Your sensitive, sensitive way many feel in everyday life difficult.
The worst thing for me would be if one would say that I have to be sick in order to dream this stuff. Or if Anja would now begin to analyze the psychological dream. So by and for Freud libido and suppressed Sexuality and all that stuff. But she puts her hand on my shoulder. And Mars served scrambled eggs.
Basically, I think it's better in a day on which I will certainly see Sven, to start with a nightmare, as if I wake up happy and it will only get worse from that point. How fine it is composed rooms everything. I smile and Mars, I replied "You see, when Dad cooks, there are also all the bad dreams, forget it."
"Yes, you are my private Johann Lafer, only without the ten million in annual sales."
"Hmph! The quiet but you can give me. "
" When I eventually times 've, you get it! I promise! "
Yes, I'll see today Svenja. She looks forward to me, it will be at seven. At seven. So much time for us, until then it is probably dancing. In which shop they will probably want to kidnap me. What she dances well? Sigur Ros she hears that I know, but otherwise?
"scrambled eggs. Mhmm! "I count the seconds, I wonder what to wear, what they will wear well, as it looks at whether there will be something. Whether I should bring condoms? If they want to seduce me? Where do they want me to seduce? The best way I should let everything come to me, I'll see it soon enough.
View of the Clock. 12:48. I'll know more in exactly six hours and twelve minutes.
... ... ... ..
The afternoon will never end. Like an endless road to the road between two villages, as the President's speech in the auditorium on the first Unitag, the paper by a fellow student with annoying voice, like rain in April, it would occur to me many examples, because I'm bored and the time will simply not be killed.
I rummage around in old letters - I have collected them in a big black box. Often when I have a feeling that I stand before some good new, then I open them, remember the good old times. Love letters small messages that describe the path that leads over here. I read a letter she wrote me a poem by Paul Celan. It just fits very well.
It is time that the stone made an effort to flower, time unrest had
beats a heart.
It is time that it is time.
It is time that it is time. The letter smells of Vanilla Kisses of pulses. The back then, almost all the girls taken, I was still sexy. Today there is a slight smell of a small girl, but we were young. The smell has now spent more bitter, but that may be due to the damn hot weather.
If it is true everywhere in the air and dust mites are out in sterile laboratories, they could just dust mites safely hold on my forehead a small pool party, get drunk with Cuba Libre, and have wild sex. Wild sex. Svenja.
I go into the city. "Ice. Now! "
... ..
is also in the city air, I gaze at the clock, 17:10, it will not later. It's as if the thick, heavy air, they would prevent from running, as if they would press push it on the frozen asphalt like a Russian fighter ring her physically inferior opponent from Nigeria.
greasy, white calves against me jump around, black flip-flops from H & M, the Trendfußmode the younger men. A young girl with Slipons, white socks with blue squiggles and short shorts, it is perhaps 17, tigert past me. Might under normal conditions somehow ... kinky, but at such temperatures I just grab me on the head, knee socks felt at 45 degrees, as necessary, a person can have it for? She's still young. What is Sven wear well? Red Light Cinema in the head. I notice that my jeans bulge at the front. Now fast an ice cream.
It helps. Woodruff and vanilla until creamy.
"woodruff" said a voice beside me.
I turn. It is small and plump, has red-colored, poorly red-colored hair, a Sternchentop that holds together only with difficulty to see what no one wants.
I disguise my voice.
"Pardon?"
"woodruff", and repeated it points to a smile.
"Do not speak german. What do you mean with What's my stair?"
"Woodruff! I. .. uh ... askt ju ju ... if ... uh ... Wuttmaster ice cream? "
" Sorry, i do not get, your mister has a stair, what? "
" Ah, ah, ju laik jua ice cream? "
" What? "
"Forgitt et"
"What?"
"Zorri"
"What?"
your Gesichtsrot changes from pale pork in cooked lobster and she leaves. That's that.
A little cat runs past me, she would slip past almost, jumping on my shoes and stroking her hair past my skin. It feels soft, it has quite a cool head, as I can determine on the fly. She's really sweet. I wonder briefly whether I should not take, take and Svenja as Gifts. But then she will surely miss someone. Or not. It is a free animal. Exactly. And I can not simply bring in a function, only because it is cute.
you turn around the next corner. Theme done.
I walk so still a while lost in thought through the streets and come out like magic, all of a sudden return home to.
quarter past six, now I could comfortably take a shower.
But then I remember that I have not taken into account in my calculation of how long it takes me to her. Where does she live at all? Look at the note.
"crap". I create little time.
"Anjaaaaaaaaa"
Anja comes from her room.
"Duuu. You gotta help me! "
" But always after all. What is it about? "
" I have equal to a date and need your bike because it is so far away and the bus service sucks. "
" A date? "
" Argh. I still need a shower. I'll explain everything in detail total promised tomorrow. War I's or not? "
" Yes, well, but tomorrow I know everything! "
" Definitely! "
She goes to her desk, rummages out the key and flicks him over me. My WG. My family. Hach.
showered In no time, I'm lucky, after the blow-dry your hair a perfect fit. The shirt is fit, has no wrinkles, I'm forged exactly the right form. Bring it on.
I swing down on the wheel and drive off. Go, go, go. Above me, it thunders suddenly. Wind is coming. It is dark and cool and within minutes. The wind gets stronger. He chases me through the whole city. Thunderstorms in default. Go, go, go. As the first drops touch my hair, I come to. Nice street. I ring, seven clock two.
It hums, I open. Outside, it is bursting at the clouds, pop the water masses on the street. I walk up the stairs. It shines through the dark clouds only dim light through the window in the stairwell. Heart Journal atmosphere.
There she stands in the doorway. As if she had taken the heat. She is hot. Svenja.
I'm ready.
"There you are!"
Yes, I laugh.
She comes up to me.
0 comments:
Post a Comment