Letters to Angel

If One is not, nothing is. Plato

I'm starting to calm down.

I can write and think freely again

Think and pass my thoughts on to you -

so you can consider them further.

That visit to Dad's home was so short.

The confusion there

smelt of corpses.

And worse than in the desert

Damp climate, is that why?

I must go back where I came from, to

the mountains It's simpler there.

You go and fight with the others.

The relationships

are clear, though no one

gets their deeper meaning.

Maybe that's the natural

human state - fighting

Reverence for life is forgotten,

pointless or misinterpreted.

I've seen so many dead

and murdered people.

And I've killed so much,

that my soul is hardened.

At Dad's funeral I felt something else.

Dad's death was something

else; it changes everything.

Death changes into what it is.

The hardness disappears and in its

place there's sorrow, maybe mourning.

And memory opens up to what is long

gone, lost behind the wall of oblivion.

LETTERS TO ANGEL

The city has always

been alien to me.

Linda wanted to get out of the

swamp, to an apartment in town.

We'd just found a

suitable one and moved in

when I was sent to Afghanistan.

A draft.

I got the call and the next morning

I was already on the flight.

I had no clue where I was going or why I

was the one being uprooted from my life.

Now I'm back and the time that's

passed is like an endless dream

God or Allah knows how long it was...

F*ck, they won't let you sleep!

Now, that Danish guy showed them

how to wank off.

A cello stuffed between your knees, the

bow moving back and forward like a dick.

Women are sure to get an orgasm.

They do! And they want it.

You believe me?

I'm gonna finish her!

I'll kill her! During an orgasm.

I will strangle her from behind

at the end of the orgasm.

I will strangle her.

I will strangle my own wife.

Not every man kills his wife

while she's coming. I will.

I will blow this whole

damn town sky high.

The whole f*ckin' town.

Pieces will rain down from the sky.

Listen Muslim,

I had an idea how to save this town

You'll take care of my wife.

Why get my own hands dirty

if I already got a fundamentalist.

You rip the whore's throat out or put

a bullet in her neck- your choice.

I'll pay, whatever it costs.

Think. You'll save the whole town.

Just one atheist - and the town is saved

No bombs... silence...

Simple.

I'll pay half now, you'll

get the other half later.

Salaam aleikum!

Hello, I'm Fee, with two E's.

- Hello.

Santa thought someone should

come meet you, so she sent me.

She got married on the weekend...

to a Dane. A Danish cellist.

Imagine

- Senta's husband is a cellist.

He gives master classes here,

or whatever they're called.

Santa brought him back from Denmark.

Now theyre buying land here.

They say there isn't

much land left there

You been to Denmark?

- No. -You haven't?

Santa says you're a globetrotter.

And you haven't been to Denmark.

Training.

It's a swamp, a marsh, a mire

- no sense in buying it.

Nein! Santa! Please! Nein!

Funeral on Wednesday. Aline.

Dear Angel, you may argue

with me and say that only I

talk to you while you listen

quietly, if even that.

But no, don't argue, this

is a dialogue and we will

keep talking until one day

we meet face to face.

I hear your voice and words clearly,

and I answer you. If I can.

And if you want my words to remain

a monologue, then I tell you:

everything's a monologue, everything we

hear, think or say, even a dialogue.

Physically I've only heard you once

On the telephone.

I say that time and

again, because that was

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