R46

Illiteracy is everywhere. I am editing an article of a brat who thinks he's a journalist. Trying to salvage his sentences. As if I'm woodcarving with feather. Hunting runaway thoughts and tired words. As if I'm scraping facade of a hovel trying to make it look like a cathedral. Market is crap. No more available wordsmiths. They either burned out or escaped to more profitable neck of the woods. They are too high to care for hilarous ignorance. Maybe they are hiding, cuddling their words lovingly and grooming them for some loftier audience.

I chew through this writing, so shoddily put together, yet adorned with kitch adjectives and almost anagramatical nonsense. I complain, of course, feeling grumpy like janitor cleaning after kids that care nothing for order and cleanliness. Each passage is like ripe barbecued sausage. I dare not pierce the thin skin, lest few precious droplets of sense will leak and sizzle upon the embers of my anger at this reckless youth's scribbling. 

Poet! I need a poet to sting with his sharpest words, for I'm losing this boxing match with greenhorn phrases of choleric quasi-journalist kid who thinks he is so smart for turning his language to sequence of anglosaxon jokes. My head is dropping. I cluck with exhaustion. 

R45

Reaching for your hand, you took mine and smiled. Pulled you in and there we were at the summit. Wiping your forehead pulled your hood back. Your cheeks were so flushed, snow gleamed in your hair. Taking off your glasses, you scanned the surroundings with binocs. You marvelet at the scenery and I was in awe of you, looking like a mountain goddess.

Several moments later, you dropped your binoculars, then unhooked the strap of backpack and put it away. Peeling the crackers wrapping, you munched at a leaf-thin snack. I love to observe you eat. You nibble like a bunny. As you were eating, however, fear started to creep up on me.

At first it was just worry that you will slip and slide down the ravine we've just climbed. I shook that one off easily. After all we were strapped and securely anchored. In my head I was already saving you, making knots and pulling you to safetly of the next anchor. But what if something happens on the way down? Most of mountaineering accidents happen on descent. I started calculating how far is it to first base. Maybe we don't have to go all the way down. Maybe we could camp out on the cliff. My fear was cracking just like melting ice of clacier that we traversed. I could see it in my mind's eye, crevice opening and swallowing you. Icy snow covering you and suddenly those glistening snowflakes in your hair seemed so creepy. I wanted to rush up to you and hug you tight, but I was afraid that it would only startle you and provoke real accident. So I was shivering and craving that moment when we can really hug.

But the crack went wider. I worried if we would ever reach the hotel. What if avalanche takes us while we are resting in the base camp? I wasn't afraid for myself, but what if the mountain snatches you away from me in that moment of lull. Well, we are able alpinists, so we will probably survive the descent, but what if that rickety van that takes us to hotel spells doom for us. Driver failing us and driving off the mountain road?

I felt my tears freezing on my cheekbones. I couldn't even shout your name. I was simply crying and praying to the mountain to let you safely returned to me.

R44

I didn't have anything else to say. Silently, I was staring at the sea. Waves assaulted the stones and sprayed us with salty mist. You didn't want to sit next to me. Hugging your knees you pretended that you observe the foaming sea.

But under the water, all was different.

You gave me a flower. I gave you a snail. We laughed with our eyes, because there is no other way. I held you close while we were floating at the decompression stop. You caressed my thigh covered with two inches of neoprene. But even through the diving suit I could feel your warmth. Sprinkling light of the surface danced in your playful hair that water choreographed. You tickled my chin, so my laughter was gurgling.

Gauge was showing less and less air left. We entered the red zone. Back to the surface where we will just be silent. Sitting apart on the rock. Watching the sea and silently praying to bring us together again.

R43

I flipped over my shoulder and scurried for cover. Behind me I heard dull staccato of arrows hitting the ground or trees. Pulling my bow I peeked out. I didn't see the shooters, they were probably reloading, but I spotted three armored grunts running across the field. I exhaled and tried to stabilize my shaking. I almost closed my eyes. I missed the moment when I let go of the arrow. I just saw head of one of the soldiers jerk back violently, his helmet bloodied, feathers of my arrow protruding from the visor. The other two almost caught up with me. Jumping back ran towards the edge of the forest. Again, heavy crossbow bolts zipped past me. My leap to cover was showered by splinters. Luckily nothing got me. I didn't have time to aim the next round. I just peeked enough for the arrow to fly away and the other grunt caught it just under his hip. He buckled to his knee and dropped the sword. One more to go. Sword rung just at the spot where I was moment ago. I dropped to my knees and practically crawled deeper into the forest.

"Get that dirty goblin scum..." someone yelled after me.

R42

She had wide back and smooth rounded shoulders. Under her skin as soft as peach skin I felt so much power trapped there. Not just the power of arm that can shoot handball precisely just in that very corner impossible to defend, but also power of passion, made gentler by her permanent smile. It was a smile that asks for forgiveness. Not for some big sin, but for small mischief, nibbling on a pie before it was time for dinner, hiding that last cookie, or fingers dipped in honey.

I couldn't wrap my arms around her. Though so stocky, she just appeared to be sluggish, it was a nifty trick. She learned well how to snake and weave to avoid the defense players. Part of her softness was a certain slippery quality. She would just slip her hand out of mine. Turn her head so that my kiss bumps against tender neck instead of her lip. It was not a seductive hide and seek.

She honestly believed she shouldn't belong to me. As if she was afraid that I will jump on those big wide shoulders for her to piggyback me. As if she was afraid that I will simply sink my teeth into her peachy skin and suck the juice.

We simply were not different enough...

R41

When you are at sea, you don't sense the scent of the sea. You sense horrible smells. The stink of damp ropes, below the deck stink and the stink of sailors. When you are at the beach, then salty scent of the sea is tickling your nostrils. It's distinct against the sweet scent of creek, pine and needles.

Tiny insects flock above the unknown herbs. They taste sweet juices we never tasted. Maybe some unknown predators are watching us from the bushes, some vampires that didn't bite us yet. We don't see the eyes of indigenous people wondering if they should slaughter us now or wait till we wade deeper into the land.

Everyone is thinking the same. Is this god's or devil's land. Even if this land was god given, no one is sure if it was wise to spill the blood of animals and break the branches of the trees. Are we taking what's ours or defiling a sacred?

To reach this shore, we had to offer horrible sacrifice. Is the plume we see in the distance our reward or our punshiment. Is this island just a temptation? Is it merely a test to find if we are worthy of reaching the holy lands.

Then there is that syrup. Sweetness we all hold for a hidden poison. Milk we didn't found yet, but the honey started pouring...

R40

I was in a dream, and it's not really important what it was about. All you should know is that it was the kind that rocks the both sides of dreaming. As if detonation of kids from the waking side and gremlins from the dream side simultaneously pierced my dreamscape.

So, I woke up. But not to this waking reality. I woke up into the deeper layer of dream, there behind the scenes of my dreams, where all the actors reside, me included as the subject of my own dreams. I found myself in a hotel and realized I feel constricted together with other actors, specially because I was bunked in the same room as my brother who did some screw up so that he left the TV on to play the jazz of static buzz. I got out of the bed, slightly dizzy from the headache and left the fuzzy room. I was greeted by elegant personnel of English school. Whole platoon of butlers. They wanted to show me everything, but before we ended up in the cellars - where pantry, kitchen and emergency dining room were nestled - I wiggled out of their grip and emerged into the dusky day.

Cam changed the angle, so I could see myself walking, strolling with the causal gait of James Bond, that guy Craig, for example, he was so devoid of any bit of charisma... so there I was, moving into the alley behind the hotel, there where chewed up cardboard packaging, slop and broken eggshells are. Angle of the shot was such that I could see the indigo colored sky. In that alley I encountered a bunch of gremlins that were busy jumping up and down all over one of those mobile shelves made of thick sheet metal and thick steel rods. Gremlins were youngsters with long black hair and ugly-green snotty-yellow noses. They really rocked that metal monstrosity so that broken glass was everywhere, and orange juice and fanta was dripping all over like blood of some wounded beast.

- Oi, there - I threatened them with calm voice while I was lighting up thick stubby cigar - Don't you dare make riots tonight, okay?

Their stares were utterly stupid. As if they are wondering what means 'oi', what means 'no' what means 'riots', what means 'tonight'...

- So, you better not be starting the fights, and torching the cars and you better not be clawing at those nicely painted facades.

They nodded and grinned, revealing needle-thin sharp teeth, and in their eyes was that gremlinoid gleam which meant that they didn't receive my words as a threat but as instructions on how to behave tonight.

Fuck it... I thought to myself puffing the cigar. It seems that they were not responsible neither for the explosions nor for my headache. So I returned to a next hotel across the street to follow some hot trail. See at this point I was like a heat seeking missile, but instead of homing on airplane exhaust I was riding the flaming trails of betrayed love. So, I entered the next establishment. As soon as I got in, I realized it was not a hotel, but a Wiener conditorei, all in wood and marble. At the table close to the shop's window wasn't sitting my crew. There was just some heat signature left, as if they were no longer dear to me.

I nodded. Now I understood who's pulling my leg. I went through the wall of this pastry shop and emerged on the other side in the room of a cheap hostel. Three or four beds were maliciously positioned so that you couldn't make it from one end of the room to the next without stepping into someone's luggage. There was a big desk contributing to this cramped mess, covered with sammiches made for the road and other food items with short expiry date.

At one side of the bed, my manager was sitting and she was silently observing the blood stain that radiated from the middle, as if the mattress was bleeding.

- What's the meaning of all this? - I asked angrily.
- I deserve my own room, I am the main actor here - I yelled a tad late as if I've just remembered my line.

She looked at me and smiled with her skyblue smile.

- Of course you deserve it. Go ask for them to give you a separate room.

I already saw myself roaming the halls of this hostel, being avoided by the staff, because they don't like those who want separate room when it's not clear who will cover the bill. To be honest, I would avoid myself if I were in their shoes.

Moment has gone. I was still sick and with headache. Someone was still smashing and breaking down from deep below, from nether layers of the dream, mayhaps even from the subconsciousness itself.

- So, what's really the problem? - I asked her in milder tone.
- Granma and wolf are fighting. Granny wants something and wolf wants something else.
- So... what... is... the... problem - I asked even more clam and slow, but with more threat in my tone.

She smiled and nodded.

- There is no problem. Granny will soon go to sleep and then wolf will calm down as well.

At that moment I realized who is really the cause of my troubles, so I started briskly walking up the small alleys leading to the zoo on the top of the hill.

Fihjcev... Fihcev... Filancev... I was groping, trying to remember the name of this Russian general who was making all this rowdy mess in my mind. Filancev, Frilancev, Filipncev... I murmured wrong names on purpose, trying to provoke my otherside consciousness to kick me back towards the right direction.

I cut short through a backyard and decided to jump across a fence. I will take these stairs and instead walking around the entire block, I will enter through the yard door, up the staircase and leave through the main door. Plus I will be able to avoid the zombified extras that started flocking on the other side where camera couldn't catch them.

So I was pretending that I'm checking something on my mobile phone, though I didn't even hold it in my hand. In fact I didn't even own one. At the end of the stairs, on a little porch just before the yard door I saw a redhead girl with juicy freckled cheekbones. She had full lips and ruffled hair. She was sort of resembling some famous actresses or female athletes that I loved to watch. Black woolen cardigan or cape was wrapped around her. She was smoking and talking to someone on the phone, probably just gossiping with a friend because I did hear that secretive hushing. You know, like, oh I'll call you back, someone is coming, I'll tell you all when we meet, and no I didn't blow his cock... you know that kind of banter.

The closer I was getting to her, the more I was averting my gaze. I don't like to gaze at beautiful girls that pass by. They could imagine things, and besides I don't want to do it. I don't like being pulled by their beauty like ass is being pulled by it's rope. Yea I noticed her. Yea I noticed her looks. As if I couldn't, and that's enough. What? Should I continue watching her, should I be tricked into leering at her. No way. One point for me. I win this round.

So I opened the door and stepped into a very small room. So small I thought it's being furbished for kids or midgets. Also I noticed that there was no staircase here, this was an appartment. Someone made their home here, enduring that, from time to time, some idiot like me, will want to cut short detour around the block. In the same time a realization hit me.

Recognition.

I know this woman. And she remembered me, too. She smiled, hid the phone under her cape or cardigan, snuffed out her ciggy. Hey, I hear the chiming voice of a former slut, now respectable lady, woman of the house and mother of three children.

I returned to the entrance and peeked in. It made me twist and lean. Pain made me toss and turn like fish that fisherman is examining in his hands to check where and how deep did the hook pierce it. I put my right hand to my face and saw inscriptions. There were two columns with names and between them were arrows that explained the flow of unrequited loves. Daniela loves Jonas. Jonas loves Vanessa. Vanessa would love to be with Lars, who thinks that Melanie is better. But she only cares for Tim, Tim thinks that Jennifer is cool, Jennifer is in love with Kevin, and this Kevin is - gay. Well it was a list not unlike this one, only with only one name repeated, my own. So I finally understood and remembered who is this woman.

- Hihih, awwe... hihi... I wouldn't recognize you... hihi... I'm married, you know... - she started babbling.

I covered my face with my palms and returned to normal straight position, you know, my feet on the ground and all that. Then I lowered my arms and again floated up, this time in the position of a gutted fish that was being searched for the hook. I remembered who this woman was. She was the love of my life. Was. I am aware, while I'm telling you this, that you will not believe me that she is that very woman. It's because the trail has gotten cold, but believe me in that moment when I saw her, the fiery storm was dancing on my face and ball of fire was bobbing up and down from my throat to my belly and back. I was roasted from the inside. May God give you that you HAVE and then HAVE NOT. You think that's a curse? Real curse is the addition... then may you HAVE and HAVE NOT again! That was the curse that was roasting me. Oh, my dear love... here you are, written on my palm so I never forget you. To remember you even in my dreams, oh my dear untwisted love.

- Look at my ring... hihihi... I did gain a bit weight... hihih... come I'll let you through the passage, don't turn around now it's too long to walk around the block... hihi... well it's a good chance to... hihii.. this is my youngest son...

Moron. Looks like gremlin, but he's too small and young to have gremlin's long hair and bratty nose.

- You know, someone called just moment ago (I think from the tv direction) to ask me for the most painful moment of my life. And I gave them an answer and then we shot this scene. But the truth is, this is the most painful moment of my life. This very moment - That's what I told her knowing that it won't change a thing, that she will still be so disgustingly married and that she will slowly start assuming her real shape and not this one that my heart and longing gave to her.

- Omg, it's just like in that book you wrote, what was the title... oh yes 'Disgusting Love Affairs'? Oh yes, that was the one. And it didn't only happen to me, it happened to my friend as well, we both met Mr. G. and it was really unbelievable...hihiih  - she continued to babble and pretend.

She was slowly oozing. First her juicy cheeks were gone. Then her hair grew short and broken. She became taller and thinner and fan-shaped earrings appeared. As if observing her through x-ray, I saw the horror I was never able to see while I was in love with her. I wasn't really going through her house to reach the other side, I was sneaking by the freak that was stalking me.

- And this surgery really helps... hiihi... you know... I really feel much younger along my Zika.. hihi... but this girl friend...hihi... just like in the book... hihii..

She started turning into a cat skeleton. Coated with silvery metal. She jumped on the ceiling and clung to it with her claws. Her neck disappeared turning into a metal hose, like those of antiquated showers. Head bobbed on that weak stalk, but she didn't stop talking. Now I was praising all the saints for preventing our love to blosom. Such a horrid harridan she was.

I got to my senses only once I reached the staircase again. It was done in marble and chrome, just as if it was a bank or some metro station. Around me were flocks of business people, clad in suits. Next to me appeared chubby lady. Her girth was hidden by black fur coat, turning her curves into chunks. I took her hand and behind us that vamp was still barking.

- hhihi...that's my friend.. .she also... hihi... just like in the book... hihihi... everything happened just like you wrote...

I paused, smiling broadly with charming smile of a drunken baron:

- Well, since we've started with the characters from the book, maybe the lady would like to be the next one?

But the fat lady was staring at me blankly just like those gremlins were.

I bit my tongue:

- I didn't mean anything inappropriate, I hope this lady will forgive my reckless expression. I assure you, it was in noblest of intentions, a compliment, although I do see how it could be taken in very very lewd manner, so in this regard, I do... apologize - I declared all this and took the fat lady out of the marble underground.

Where the fuck is the exit, have to take this whale out of here and escape the witch.

- Ah, here we go - I exclaimed, noticing where the exit was.

It was too difficult to open the doors, so the people were flocking on the both sides, further making it difficult to open. As we slowly moved towards the exit, I had to stop several times to show this fat lady how to walk properly. She was so wobbly I was afraid she would just topple over, and she didn't even know how to hold a gentleman's hand. Not like that you stupid goose, I am supposed to hold the palm and you are covering it... try doing it with more sophistication you stupid cow.

- I have to go to the hospital - she said as if she was thinking, I'm so sorry because I can't go with you to be fucked passionately and which would make me brag to my witchy girlfriend, emphasizing that she was out of the loop and that instead of fucking some extras she was doing it with the main actor, mr. writer himself.

I nodded and assured her that I will engage all my gentlemanly powers to safely bring her to that train that will take her to the hospital. Which was just a stupid male promise because I had no idea about where is the train stop, where to expect the train and many other things pertaining to local trains.

There were platforms from the both sides of one tracked rail. Station was in the middle of nowhere, on the sloping hillside. I recognized them by the roof which was the only part of the concrete platform that was still visible, the rest sunken through the mud made by thousands of feet of the mass that was crowding to enter the train.

- I.. .really... am ... not sure...I see Avala on this side... and Belgrade... on the other side.. But I have no idea where this train is coming from or where is it going to... - I stammered.
- Don't you worry, I'll go there - she lurched to unite with the sea of people rushing to the platform like herd of zombies.

Elderly couple started dragging the fat lady and pulling her luggage. They spoke in Albanian so she didn't understand them, but I did because I had subtitles.

- They just want to help you with your suitcase, they say not to worry - I offered to translate.
- Hell no! Fuckoff! - She was cursing and wrestling the old couple for her luggage.

I shrugged. No longer my problem. I turned and saw huge mass of people pouring from one train into another. Well I didn't actually see it, but the camera did record it, oh fuck cmon get used to the camera angles of the dreamscape, for fuck sake...

So as the camera tilted to align with what I see, just between the wall and all the crowds, there was a smiling young woman from my past.

- Hey, look at you! - I yelled, so happy to finally see a familiar face.
- Ciao - she said and kept smiling - What are you doing here?

I flailed my arms. Fuck, I'm just trying to make sense of this dream, you know. Do you happen to know which train will take me to the Other Side? She pointed it with her chin. The train that was just incoming behind me. Many people already flocked to align themselves with the front door. She took me a bit further ahead.

- I always stand here, because the train engineer always pulls over a bit ahead, and then the middle door opens right here where there is no crowd - she said, nudging me there.

It was too late, the mass rushed in colliding with the same mass that wanted to rush out. Comfortably pressed between two masses of people we continued our chat.

- This is my troll - she presented him proudly.

It was a small terribly sick little being, blinking with it's dark eyes under the huge thick glasses. It had an apple shaped head and black hay-like hair, nose oozing with goo. I was not sure if the creature was hiding in the backpack of this woman or if the backpack was it's body. This being was sneezing terribly, trying to slurp all the goo back through a straw.

I tried to help, but the woman stopped me.

- No, no let him try it... it's his fault... he ate too much pepper again.

I felt like a failure. I wanted to tell to this woman all my life from the point when we separated to this point when we are meeting deep under my consciousness. But she kept going on about her troll. Then I realized that it didn't really matter, coz end of dream was near.

So I woke up. On this side that we share. I guess that's the 'right' side. So I rushed to write all this down, though the trail was already getting colder. And that's it. I made it. More or less. It's like a theatre show, you can't record it, you can't re-tell it, you simply had to be there to understand it all.

Fuck it.