Dni sa dejú a niekedy len žmurknem a opäť je tma... všetko sa pod vplyvom zimy zmršťuje, odkedy sa november prehupol do svojej druhej polovice, svet sa zredukoval na pravidelný prísun kávy s kardamónom, papuče s nórskym vzorom a ticho sem tam narušené platňou Arvo Pärta. Keby neexistovali všetky tie písmená ktoré treba namnožiť, možno by som spala celé dni, sem tam námesačne - šúpajúc pritom pomaranč - hľadela z okna do tunelov, čo okolo pouličných lámp vznikajú z konárov a snívalo by sa mi o lese: "Zavše sa mi myšlienky popletú, mám pocit, akoby les zapúštal vo mne korene a spriadal mi v hlave svoje odveké myšlienky..." Možno toto je ten zimný spánok.
Days happen and sometimes it takes just blink and it's dark again ... everything shrinking in the cold arms of November: world has been reduced to a regular supply of cardamom coffee, slippers with Norvegian pattern and quietness interupted by Arvo Pärt vinyl from time to time. If there weren´t all those letters waiting to be writen, I would probably sleep through these days. Sleepwalkingly watching the branches creating tunnels around the street lamps, peeling an orange and dreaming about the woods: "My thoughts often get confused, I feel like if the forest buries its roots into me, spinning its agelong reflections." Maybe this is that wintersleep.
Quotation: From M. Haushofer: "Die Wand"
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