We spend the evening in the living room. She is busy with her smartphone, typing a long SMS and listening to music. We have come to the agreement without words that I read and she lies on my sofa (which is not half as big as her's) with headphones. Sometimes she supports her head and wipes only with one hand, sometimes while tapping for life and death, sometimes she falls back on the pillow and dreams to herself. I sit in the armchair and can not concentrate on the book text (short stories by Alice Munro), because I constantly look at her. The blue flickering light from the display illuminates her contours, her snub nose, her shini
Iphinoe blows. "Well, I think the situation is just amazing. This morning I rang you out of bed - so it was, was it? Then I invited you to tea, so after you helped me with my key, my unruly family gave me a rude visit, now I am sitting at your kitchen table because you kindly grant me asylum until the waves have smoothed - if they ever get smoother-. We sit here like an old couple. I mean, it's not that I would like human people especially - but they do not like us too much! You as a person and as a neighbour and as a man and at all are quite okay, although you are a human being, but you are not a straightforward person either. You
Actually, I would have to inform my landlord that I now have a sub-tenant. But it is an emergency. This emergency is a centauress with a gazelle body and a very, very pretty girl in front. This girl has two huge furry ears, two sweet horns on her forehead, and a sack full of household items, which now seemingly arbitrarily dispersed in my home. First, Iphinoe examines the balcony. I keep them cautiously back: "Remember that you should not leave the house first and not even be seen on the balcony."
"Ah, well, you're right," Iphinoe muttered disappointed. Next, she looks at the bathroom. I have never thought about how a German bathro
I brewed a coffee, but it's cold now. I sit at the kitchen table and listen to the turmoil in the stairwell. It seems to me that a whole herd is raging there, and probably it is the same. Loud men's voices call each other, angry and pounding like gunfire. So brave I'm not that I'd interfere.
When finally peace has returned, I drink my cold coffee. Yes, as soon as foreigners are in the game, it becomes loud and aggressive, I always knew that! Then it must be right, what you say about that. Wild, noisy and uncivilized! They eat children and kill their best friend for whiskey. No one of them sticks to the midday break and to the cust
That's how they live. Living is actually an exaggeration, because apart from a monstrous sofa and a shaky table there is only one pile of half-packed cartons and a naked light bulb in the living room. In the whole apartment, as far as I could risk a glance, grass-green fitted carpet was on the ground. There is also a green carpet in the kitchen.
"Can I imagine: dear apartment, this is my neighbour, dear neighbour, that is my apartment." She stands in the middle of the room, spreads her arms and turns once in a circle. Her brownish, oversized hair head blows behind her. Now I notice her little horns on her forehead, hidden for a lo
When it rings at the apartment door in the morning, it can only be a package or the Jehovah's witnesses. The heater reader comes at the earliest in three months. I make every effort to be invisible and inaccessible, because I want to work in peace and preferably at night. I can make my own time, I just need to keep the deadline. Strangers also make me nervous. I need my order of the day. That's why I'm tired and shuddering in shorts and T-shirt to the door.
Outside is the most beautiful girl I've seen in years, and has her smartphone on her ear. "Excuse me ..." she chutes. "I ... I've locked myself out."
Although I am not yet ful