the night turns into yet another morning, as two peopleare seen in a conversation, walking along the streets in the 16th district.
they have just left the bar. they worked behind the counter at the bar at Cafe Bohem. I saw them. Making jokes, talking to people who asked for a drink or so.
at cafe bohem wa sthe party for celebrating the green-red coalition in wien.
12 hours later, she leaves with some linden tea in a nice glass container;
and with the stubborn capacity to still be able to love in the name of life and being alive;
she thinks that tears are romantic anarchists - turning all perception into a liquid state...
he is the one who is utterly sad; she is the one crying away the tears, listening to his pain: of not being able to be with the one he is in love with.
after talking for hours
like friends? like a therapist and the patient? like 2 stangers in a weird encounter?
she is exhausted. her eyelids drop in spite of the south park episodes that she would love to watch otherwise.
they sleep from 12 noon to 4 pm.
she can hear him sleep heavily together with his sadness. he is fast asleep; his pain trapped in his heart& mind; his pain fluttering.
she perceives his sadness; she perceives his love for this lady he talks about.
she hears that he is ready to basicly change anything in his life for this lady he talks about.
he is already now closing the refrigirator door after taking out a sandwich - just because she had warned her before not to leave the fridge door open for long... those are easy nuisances he is saying. he can do anything to win her heart.
she wakes up, feeling as if there is a sun behind the white of the curtain.
he wakes up; in pain; in agony; bothered; probably in love.
she perceives a heart that is fluttering. he is a trapped bird.
she understands perfectly how he is craving to convince this girl that it is a huge mistake not to see each other anymore...
she understands perfectly the ambivalance; the disaster of ambivalance, the tragedy of not knowing the reasons.
she watches him. she hears him. she feels him. helpless. he has such a clear idea for the 2 of them. for him, it is an "us" situtaion that should not be missed. she feels that this girl is in a single-in fear-in doubt state. yet in the girl's letter, she sounds so clear. so clear she almost envies her for being so clear in a letter.
she wonders how one is eager to end a relation whereas the other one is so eager to just continue.
something missing in the equation...
a million thoughts.
millions of associations.
she tries to stick to the moment.
to his facts.
she holds his head. his head is trapped in a certain kind of hopelessness.
how to heal.
she cannot comprehend the gap between this man's passion and this woman's decisiveness not to continue.
he is so nice she wants to cry. or he is so obsessed that she wants to run?
she takes a hot shower, singing tanita tikaram: the very very very sad truth is i never think sensibly...
she adores a being's capacity to love. with no reason.
she is an alien. but maybe he is also an alien after all.
she almost believes this. almost.
she adores the metaphor: he is left standing in the bus stop. and the bus is not coming...
is it about me? or is it about her? he asks... he believes that it is about her.
because he believes himself to be a cool guy; a perfect guy even.
she would never be bored if she was with him; that's what he says.
how he longs for this girl.
she watches him longing for this girl who is a phone call away.
she drinks a cup of linden tea; looking through books.
she already has anothe rappointment in the 3rd district.
he gets her a glass container - a jar.
she puts some linden in the glass containe.r
she puts the glass container in her bag.
she wishes him good luck.
and she leaves.
he turns on the light so that she does not fall down the stairs.
ah, she does not need eyes to see.
shut your eyes, and see.
"the very music i have heard inside your heart"