- Hurry!
- Wait for me, here I come! I can not do it faster ...
After walking on the platform and briefly immersed in the underworld, the events the next day resume their course. Saccades. The time is fragmenting, and sometimes falls into very fine mosaic floors. Portions minimum time we are allocated. Cutting into the fabric of the day. The eye bank is anxious to watch the progress notes, or delays, worries, projection of what will be in what was, that is, it is difficult to keep. Projection jerks. We stumble. The wait is concerned, she weaves anxiety now, color the son of our thoughts.
- You have prepared the text for the procedure tomorrow.
- Not quite, I need a little time today ...
- What are you waiting for?
unravel. We impulses that stop, gestures that emerge will never be completed, they will not get that in the vast orb of their own. Lack of scale. Lack of space. We are enclosed in parentheses narrow, which gradually little, like magnets, approach each other. Our phrases, quotes, dialogues are weak, we do not listen.
The possibility of Odysseus is away, disappeared in the distance.
But we keep ourselves well to look ahead. Our eyes are focused on the very thin surface before us, aligns numbers and letters. Focal length of our world. Odysseus is away in another taut line. We want ours to be a hallucination that suddenly appeared before us focus all attention, ask all forces of our being, Ulysses off, continues to move away, he comes out of the reach of our voice, wind carries it, and the sea is favorable, it is beyond the scope of our eyes, and then, now at this place in the world, he came out of our thoughts.
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