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.as you walk the streets, to wherever your steps might take you, and your head is filled with the noise of 100 stamps and you get the feeling that you had dozed off, even if you were walking the streets for i don’t know how long and you don’t know what you were thinking and, for the moment, you start to panic because you know that someone, behind a curtain, is filming you; and then you start to check your pockets for your keys; and you suddenly get the feeling that you will never find anything anymore; right at this moment you feel a hand on your back and the next second your brow is sweaty and you whisper something you can’t even hear yourself. Don’t be scared. It’s the Boneless.

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when you’re asleep and you suddenly wake up, in the sound of a broken glass, dropped onto the asphalt from high above, perhaps from the top floor; and you instantly think: somebody must have thrown a glass of water after a dog… and the next moment you realize: who might throw a glass at this hour, i alone live at the top floor; i’m in bed, sleeping; and there’s no open window, although you have the feeling that there is one open – the curtains move as well. Don’t be scared. It’s the Boneless.

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‘The point was not to interrupt’, I complained. But I guess it’s ridiculous to ask her to have some sense about this. I was only going to show her briefly how it was done. But to her that was like being lectured about a swimming technique when one is thirsty. She always chooses precisely what to remember. When she has learned everything I have to teach her, she will only have to mimic kindness.

I saw her parents last summer. She couldn’t understand class until she figured she had no privileges here. All her friends’ parents are the same. The fathers are engineers, the mothers accountants or something of the sort. There was a time when she had very strict ideas about who was right and who was wrong. She was only going to catch up so she could destroy faster afterwards. She took her role as the child then discovered she was a worker. I never saw her complain ever again.

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when you sit alone in the kitchen and you smoke, you inhale with a self-consuming urge; and you think that others – most of them – eat, also, from a somewhat similar urge: you get the feeling that they want to kill themselves eating; and, just as you sit and smoke (perhaps you are nervous or agitated, you can’t really tell yourself), you hear the phone ringing; now the cigarette shakes between your fingers; you have the feeling that the phone will never stop ringing; and you don’t feel like answering it at all, in fact, you can’t even pick it up; you would rather drop dead this instant, than hear that ringing anymore. Don’t be scared. It’s the Boneless.

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There are those parties when all the friends from back home, whom in fact she first met here, flood our apartment and very soon start a fire with everything they left behind and everything they have to deal with over here. They always take things personally. When we meet with my friends, she stirs up debate before we’ve even had the first drink. She wants to understand how things can compare. She has to stand for something or someone, she can never be neutral.

if you dream you are stuck in a sea of kelp, and all kinds of creatures and things swim/float all around you; but the most aggressive seems to you a vacuum cleaner on which someone has written FAKIR; and you try to come to the surface (you are aware that you are very close to the surface, because you can see the sunlight shimmering over the water) but the kelp swirls around you, because your movements are awry and there’s no one next to you in bed to wake you up, and the calendar-icon on the nightstand, which a little girl gave to you yesterday, cannot wake you – now you see the otters are drawing near. Don’t be scared. It’s the Boneless.

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There are times when I look at my life and know I have been blessed with stability. I cannot remember a time when things were not the way they are now. I follow things growing and then moving towards decay. Into our relationship, I came as I always had been. My death won’t mean anything, only perhaps to those interested in statistics. These ripples on the surface that she makes fail to move me. I know for a fact they will not change the way things are. There are too many decisions behind every set of moves and no, she cannot get them undone. Things should be left the way they are, it is good for all of us. She knows it herself. She has no right to act like she doesn’t know.

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when you walk towards the marketplace wondering whether blowing up balloons might be a way to get high; and as you walk like that you pass by the huge windows of the bank on the corner, and you can hardly help yourself from looking at your own reflection there, and you think about the beautiful and serious chicks, with a sweet air, you can’t see them: they are hidden in banks working on credit lines and doing estimates; and this is the real reason their skin is so fair; they never expose themselves to the sun; and as you walk on, now thinking of historical and SF movies, you get goose bumps when you look at the hands of the people in the market, as they lay, stretched out, you think that one of these days, a hand like that might touch you and, in that spot, instantly, a fly would sit on you; now your eyes gaze onto a keychain of a mouse wearing a t-shirt; and right this moment you feel somebody pushes you from behind. Don’t be scared. It’s the Boneless.

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Everything suggests that she is not the enemy, yet she likes acting like one. In her childishness, she often creates preposterous situations that my friends read as lack of education (‘She’s so uncivilized!’, I heard not once in the air around her, although she never seemed to mind). She interrupts those who take their time to explain a thought – she wants to get her word in, as if in her past life she always was told what to do. When she exaggerates, I attempt a gentle smile to remind her we are not all her enemies. She turns a fierce gaze and I am no longer sure of my reasonableness.

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