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World Aids Day: 24

A minute has 60 seconds. An hour has 60 minutes. And a day has 24 hours. The life of a 24 year-old has 8’760 days and 756’864’000 seconds…


Everything comes to its time, the time where it must come. In the time, that is meant for. The beginning is the end. The beginning of the end, that is ever present. Each moment is infinite, yet only an instant short.


Two minutes for the search after the rubber in the store, three minutes standing in line, 30 seconds to pay.

3-4 hours sweet conversations, half an hour on the way home.

20 minutes chat in the car. 10 after, outside in the corridor.

2 minutes just caressing and kissing, 12 minutes break for two cigarettes, standing in the kitchen. Back in the corridor, 4 minutes to or fro, plus 4 minutes for

“You can trust me, I really like you”.

And No becomes Yes in ca. 7 minutes.

2 seconds long a hesitant breath, but that is quickly overcome.

Another 6 minutes to take a bath, 3 minutes from, looking at the mirror, see that everything’s turning, and that one is high, quietly laughing.

In a short moment lights turned off and candles enkindled.

Clothes from body, then all naked.

A second long thought given to the rubber in the bedside locker, already at the next moment dispelled, no attention dedicated.

And then: 10 minutes – or was it yet 40? – amused, then 4 minutes remained silent, avoided sights.

12 minutes long talk, 5 hours sleep, shower for only 3 minutes and 8 for toast and tomatoes.

10 minutes for “I have to go, it was nice, and we see each other.”

10 seconds for “write me sms”, 8 seconds long goodbye-kiss.

20 minutes at home, out of the things.

1 hour under the shower, but the odor won’t get off.

4 months for everyday life, 2 hours fever dizziness, 2 hours waiting room at the doctor and not feeling well.

4 minutes blood taking, 6 days waiting for values – the seconds of the result, in life the hardest.

Thousand hours for doubt and remorse, 20 seconds anguished, 20 comprehended, then 20 in tears, 20 screamed.

To be 24 and realize:

“Oh, my God what have I done?!”

24 years exchanged for the rush of only one night.


Everything comes to its time, the time where it must come. In the time, that is meant for. The beginning is the end. The beginning of the end, that is ever present. Each moment is infinite, yet only an instant short.

 

 

 
Based on the song “24” by Curse from the album “Sinnflut”


 

                            

Hug me.

The_hug_da


عِناق، تَعانُق, 拥抱, 擁抱, objetí, omfavnelse, omhelzing, kaisutus, halaus, étreinte, Umarmung, αγκάλιασμα, átkarolás, faðmlag, pelukan, abbraccio, 抱よう, 포옹, apskāviens, priglaudimas, omfavnelse, uścisk, abraço, îmbrăţişare, объятие, objatie, objem, abrazo, omfamning, yakap, kucaklama

 

Hug – The Universal Language

The Monster (a short story)

In the darkest corner it waits. Placidly waiting to torture me for the wrongs I have done. Pretending to sleep, not to move, nor breathe, yet through an opening of my cave of pillows covering my head, keeping my eyes indirectly fixed at the ink black end of the room, where it placidly waits. Wrapping myself a little bit more under the blanket, but still, not enough to not feel exposed. It knows that I’m awake, knows that I hear the wind knocking at my window and feel the cold shadows of moonlit trees dancing across the bed. It is in these cold, never-ending nights in particular, where it appears and deprives me from sleep, patiently, silently waiting, just standing there in that corner between the unlit. But tonight is different, this time I dare to take a longer glimpse across the darkness, I won’t wait for the old sun to save me. It already knows that I’m looking right at him and stares back, something familiar the way it does. My heart is pounding, but still determined to be exposed and to get out of my cave.

“What are you?! I know I’m not asleep, but are you a product of my mind?”

Placidly staring, then at once moving towards the window to escape. But I get up the bed, grab it at its back, pulling it down to the floor, to see its face…

A seemingly never-ending night. The wind knocking at my window. Between the cold shadows of moonlit trees it is now plain to see. After all this time, the monster, it was me.