behind the dense branches is a yellow sky, neither day nor night. i reached here spellbound by visions of black scaly hams. all the way, passers-by stare at me, seeing off. by the fences i hear a boy and dog playing in the lawn. freeze as the smog dances, random winds scuff its tresses and blue holes appear in the sky, in one of which the moon manages to yawn. peering into a wheat field, a boy notices me and runs into the house. there she is, embroidering and smoking, her back to the entrance, ashes falling on fresh tight fabrics and seeping into them. when the door slams shut, she turns her head, but there is the back of her head behind of her, round and round and she has to do it more than once until our eyes, filled with love and disdain, meet. if the gazes are directed at each other, they move in the same direction. steamed the rusty wicket, opened it just a little, that the screech sounded and passed, with two hands digging into the battens, not letting me in without sniffing close. 

-I’ve made some.

piling up pieces of cherry pies, glued and crumpled into one human-sized mountain right on the sand of the backyard. the vermin must have gotten to the nervous system of such a dish by now, it shouldn’t be eaten, only burned.

-need to get my hands cleaned

the whole house was furnished with stretchers. perhaps they are the reason why the local spiders have abandoned straight lines, weaving exclusively in arcs and circles. coming across such a net and accidentally folding it into a tube. corridor funnel with hurdle furnitures. there’s a sink in every room. the brown washcloth, it’s always a fear of cutting myself on the soap. rushing down the gutter. is it blood if the blood immediately mixes with tap water? 

all right, kid, as agreed. shaking my hands on the veranda and bouncing along, the bun monster, scarred to the stuffing, defeated by coming into this world, grows larger. she peeks out, waiting. 

the gaunt stud is her eyebrow, reflected on the other side of the face. her upper lip is a flattened “M”, cheekbones are screwed into the ends of monolithic jaw which supports a haughty look, in the middle of it all is a snub-nosed tendon with a variety of skin.

everything smells of hedges and moths. on a long spoon I scoop out a piece and drop it. the second, even smaller than the first, I squeeze it with my tongue and chew the jelly, trying to bite down on possible critters. a boy dressed as a plastic head of some bird runs out, screaming, naked, slips across the sand, tearing his hand, grabbing sand, throws it towards the table, defiantly “stretches his fly” and starts peeing on spice. relief. 

the shout was so overpowering that it was louder to hold back. the punishing organs rustled, I promised to intervene and grabbed the raised brush over the sucker. 

-run home, hide and sleep! 

the ending of this story will be a lead-in to another story, where i will take myself a break for three weeks to avoid going crazy and meditate, eat once a day and masturbate as less as possible. i will sketch a new story per hour and weave it together to publish it immediately.