Calamari Union Page #3

OK.

Some matches and

a plastic bag.

You pay these, I paid the hotel.

- OK, Frank.

That was terrible.

You're right,

we shouldn't do that.

They take it all back in

the product prices.

Where shall we eat?

- I'm not hungry any more.

I'll take it back.

- For f***'s sake!

It's a terrible sound.

The small crack of

a hard-boiled egg -

against the bar counter.

When it echoes in the mind

of a hungry man.

His head is a terrible sight, too.

In the shop window

early in the morning.

A dust-coloured reflection.

But he's not looking

at his own head.

Why should he?

No, he's dreaming.

Dreaming of some

other head -

a calf's head in aspic.

Or any other head

good for food.

He grinds his teeth -

knowing that the world -

doesn't give a damn

about him.

Nothing he can do

to the world!

He counts his fingers -

one, two, three!

One, two, three!

Three days without food!

For three days he's

been telling himself:

"This can't go on!"

But on and on it goes.

Three days, three nights

without food!

And behind those windows -

the pastries, bottles, tins.

Dead fishes protected by tins, -

tins protected by windows, -

windows protected by police, -

police protected by fear.

Such a barricade for

six wretched sardines!

I've reached the end -

of one of

the thousands of paths -

that fill my world

The evening air is cool

Daylight disappears -

behind the woods

Nothing can die away

Not flowers, not the wind

Love can't die tonight

My path winds by

And the flowers stay behind

Somewhere the wind -

plays his song

The moment of love

fades from our eyes

I guess it, too,

goes its way

The touch of a hand

Still true today

Goes by like a song...

I want a suit

to match this tie.

From my childhood I can only

remember my mother.

She used to slap me gently

with her big hands -

before putting me in bath.

- Did you like it?

I don't know.

You feel lonely in water,

especially if it's cold.

It's different if it's warm.

Or what do you say?

- Nothing.

You're doing the talking.

Couldn't life go on

without the wind?

It makes everything shiver.

All you see are

unimportant things.

Still we shiver.

I wonder why?

I am feeling sad, too.

We all feel it in our throat.

You know, although I'm still

young I used to be younger.

So did my friends.

I call them my friends -

even though they've

rejected me.

Already then, we were

tormented by fear.

They could've used our fear.

Telling us:

"This is it, we'll bury you!"

And so we were afraid

to run too fast.

What if we'd found ourselves

by an open grave, breathless.

Breathless, we would've

realised that we wouldn't -

have been able to say

anything, no breath.

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