5 years of therapy...
It all comes flooding back to me... The tears.... the insults... the broken furniture... the sunshine over the deep blue waters of the mediterranean. The happy moments we shared... Dancing in the street at night, crying with joy... naked. In the rain.
~ ~ ~ Start waves ~ ~ ~
It must have been 2005.... I was a gardener, at a hotel, somewhere near California, Cannes. ... Insert your card 20 times, and maybe you are lucky.
~ ~ ~ end waves ~ ~ ~
The good news is that I can go shopping for new furniture tomorrow!
No, I am joking. The therapy was really a succes. Smashing, even. I can even look at a carte postale (there I go again) of Nice without trembling. My mind is totally unwarped. Un-Bend. De-corrupted. Most of the time. I am even allowed outside these days. Buy an apple with real money. Not the one that you can hurt yourself with. The money made out of papier maché, all chewed by myself. O dear, I start buffering again. ... And I lost the connection to reality - again. Thank god it's raining again and I have a reason to dance in the streets. Naked.
-
Yes, mr Dabbs is right. And he is totally innocent, officer. You can stop beating him. ... And no, I can assure you he is fine being unconscious. He's my friend. I know him. We do this all the time... It's something in the water. The dolphins, probably. Just stop beating.
Biting the hand that feeds IT
