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as putea fi vanzatoare la magazinul de peste, unde moartea se etaleaza in fiecare galantar si da tarcoale acvariilor cu crap si somn. as putea mirosi a peste pana cand intr-o zi, n-as mai simti nimic si izul neplacut mi s-ar impregna in piele.
as pune pestele in pungi, l-as cantari aruncand ocheade ligheanului cu raci care se zbat inca, as observa cum codul dezghetat invie, pentru ca mai apoi sa-i depart capul de trup cu precizia unui chirurg.
ar trebui sa zambesc clientilor care se razgandesc in privinta marfii si sa ii servesc politicos.
si dupa ce m-am inconjurat cu atata moarte, mi-as reface machiajul pe care l-am intins cu maneca halatului cand mi-am sters fruntea de sudoare.
mi-as pili unghiile privind nepasatoare cum un somn batran isi da duhul in acvariu cu apa neschimbata de luni.
mi-ar amorti mainile separand trupurile decapitate ale celor ce-au fost candva salai, imbratisate sub gheara ghetii si le-as arunca in vitrina cu gratia pianistului care dupa atata studiu, poate canta fara sa se uite la clape.
m-as crede craiasa gheturilor, stapana peste fauna acvatica, avand ca sceptru un satar, vesnic temuta si privita cu ochi umezi si morti.

And so I've grown

For all I know now, this might turn into another third rate, "oh i'm so confused and sad" kind of blog. It is not my intention though, it has never been, I just feel the need to start anew.
It's true, there are some things that eat me up inside, but they aren't what makes me me.
Like a kid who can't count his marbles unless he takes them out of his pockets, I cannot tell just how my mind works unless I spread them thoughts before my eyes and start analyzing and taking notes. So one might say this is some sort of experiment, some mirror, or at least some blank sheet for me to doodle on, some elbow room for my head.
I am not on my way to becoming me, I already am me (spectaculous wording, I know,but you get the point).