I love and hate this place because it is full of words.
There was also a rumor that later in the day, she walked fully clothed into the Amper River and said something very strange. Something about a kiss. Something about a Saumensch. How many times did she have to say goodbye?
I think she ate a salad and some soup. And loneliness. She ate that, too.
There were people everywhere on the city street, but the stranger could not have been more alone if it were empty.
She didn’t dare to look up, but she could feel their frightened eyes hanging onto her as she hauled the words in and breathed them out. A voice played the notes inside her. This, it said, is your accordion.
You want to know what I truly look like? I’ll help you out. find yourself a mirror while I continue.
The nightmares arrived like they always did, much like the best player in the opposition when you’ve heard rumors that he might be injured or sick-but there he is, warming up with the rest of them, ready to take the field.
If they killed him tonight, at least he would die alive.
Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?
A REASSURING ANNOUNCEMENT Please, be calm, despite that previous threat. I am all bluster – I am not violent. I am not malicious. I am a result.
My voice is like a rumour. I’m not sure if it came out or not, or if it is true.
We both laugh and run and the moment is so thick around me that i feel like dropping into it to let it carry me.
It felt as though the whole globe was dressed in snow. Like it has pulled it on, the way you pull on a sweater. Next to the train line, footprints were sunken to their shins. Trees wore blankets of ice. As you may expect, someone has died.
The paper landed on the table, but the news was stapled to his chest. A tattoo.
I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.
And they would all smile at the beauty of destruction.
It’s funny, don’t you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.
And I stop listening to me, because to put it bluntly, I tire me.
Yes, I know it. In the darkness of my dark beating heart, I know. He’d have loved it alright. You see? Even Death Has A Heart.
You can kill a man with those words. No gun. No bullets. Just words and a girl.