\\ 365 arab!k karakterz mult!pl!ed b! ...

[integer at www.god-emil.dk]

[c]ccp nn

i stood out under the awning, pleased it was not so cold as i was not
dressed for bitter winds.

i was early. too nervous to wait inside any longer and wanting to prolong this
curious moment, perhaps this final waiting, for as long as possible. it
seemed to me that the longer i stood there the more significant a memory i could
construct. i travelled through my thoughts of you, of me, when i was young, of what
linearity could make sense of this. but i was standing on ground i had
built, and had no memories to assist me.


i counted cars, playing games as a child that by the time i had counted to 50
you would have arrived. i debated with myself that only the cars coming in the
direction of you would be counted. it allowed me more time. i wanted to only
count the red cars but the light was insufficient. i was having difficulty
concentrating. i lost count and forgot my game. i wondered if i should be
wearing lipstick.


.....

the 20 minutes i had been standing outside had passed in what appeared to be
seconds. my belly twisted in nervous anticipation. you would be here soon.

i had no demands that you should be punctual. i simply wanted to stand there.

i peered down the street, wondering how to tell your
vehicle from any other. i tried to recall photographs yet all cars look the same
in the distance, and i could not recall how the headlights - my only means of
recognition - were placed on yours. i noted there was space to park across the
street. i stepped inside the lobby for a moment to check my hair, my hands, my face. 
i didn't know what to look for, i didn't know how i should present myself. i gave up,
told myself to relax and have another cigarette and pretend this was normal. suddenly you arrived.


i forgot that i was nervous and walked toward you. my eyes were lit, i was
wearing a smile and my limbs obeyed my pleadings to be graceful. i don't
remember if there was traffic, and, if there was, if i would have avoided it. there
was a swelling in my belly, like a simultaneous release and tightening. the
release of my incomprehensible need to know your gaze and the tightening knowing that the
world would never appear the same after i learnt of it. your shadow in the car,
the door opening. i desperately wanted to slow down, to stand a few meters away
from you and just stop 



- just pause and end the film but suddenly you were
there
and i was there
and it was as if i were experiencing death in reverse, undoing
the maddening pain of all the deaths i had lived through, the deaths that had
conditioned me to death itself.


'you're real' you said, in such a familiar voice. 




i smiled and thought -
i just feel. i have and need no words to encapsulate what i feel. yet in
the silence of my life i am battling with my words, because you demand
words, you are a production line of words. 



it is all construct and baroque
eloquence, hiding behind filigree curves and chases. the only thing that
resounds
with any degree of reverberation is the absence of words, the allowing of
one to
disappear into the free-forms of the more direct sensations. 


i miss the safety of
music, the piano. it was my compass and my solace. i never believed a person
could know another just from words but i am incorrect. you are proof to me of
this - you have stood before me twice and both times i have felt as if i have
known you beyond your words. 

....


i will
stand before a battle long before i feel the need to scream. i will take blows
far beyond my endurance before i whimper. linear thoughts are caught in
crossfire
with prior thoughts

more words to follow, more words erased. trace the invisible lines upon a clean
white sheet of paper - the labyrinth's many paths are met there.

... so easily swayed by words, so easily drawn into stories. i do not
trust them to lead my life.

confusion seeps in and i no longer experience the
clarity
of self ...