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Sliding Through

Can’t see through the looking-glass,
Well, it must be better than tiles.
I’d like to drink your soul
When you die in my arms
And fly…

Lovely, lovely, a little blondie,
Took my heart away
From the girl
I always have.

Well, it has burnt me inside down. Let me be your teddy bear forever. You’re not able to hear me, are you? Keep your love warm for me, I’ll hold you when I need. Will it ever be better than this? Will our souls sign a peace in the lies?

Such a peaceful warrior. Licking upside down, take the African where you cum from. Creepy feelings and such. Death walks around us while we live our lives in a reflection of coincidences chain. Why so serious?

All stories start with a question. Is there an answer for this? Like this ancient philosophy, there is no an answer for anything. Even if there is, we’re not able to find out. So why this big puzzle? Screwing up our heads and minds. We have no any other options than living with lots of unknown shit holes. 

Words are numb, as much as you’re dumb,
Pretend that you’re fine, you’re always mine.
The more you chase me, 
The worse you’ll get me.

Well, well, well… So I can die easy.

Yellow Fall was my favorite season,
It’s not anymore, she said. They are not true, I’m the only one, I should say… 

Smile forever. Purpose of life is to end. Purpose of life is to be purposeless. Bit by bit. Take a glass of yellow milk. Thanks to you I will be done. I will be mindless as we’re walking the line…

Drop, drop, drop. Won’t it ever end, your tears? Something so naive and beautiful as the heart of a hogget. Will your little life understand its price? Have we fooled ourselves for all these years? From the love of a princess, I couldn’t deserve the rest.

Life is so shameful, dear. I must be your life. Can you forgive me? Please, do. 

I love you…

It’s such an awful thing to have your best and only friend dead in your heart. It’s not dead, it’s not forgotten, you always say. But does it even matter? Could you take the time back? Is the only thing we could not defeat death or time? Do we control everything else in the world? 

We want satisfaction.
We want lust.
We want chaos and disorder in our relationships.
We will want our bodies dead.
We will keep our souls in the cage.
Will we ever think we’ve been dying for so long? Each day of our lives erases a part of our souls. 

Blow me away…
Like a tiny flower in our minds, possessing our body holes bit by bit. Thanks a lot the government. “Sex can be liberty, it can also be an entrapment.” Once J. Morrison said. Have you forgotten the keys to my little heart? Have you forgotten to lock or unlock me? 

The beginning of the end… It always tells us how it’d end, how it’d screw us up, how it’d make us mad. When you’re in my arms, I can’t do anything else but sniff you. You’re my glue, you are the blue.

Lizard of the Blizzard, tell me how could you kill the wizard? Was it my fault that you were unpleasant? What is the fault of reasoning? We’re in between Planet of the Apes and Planet of the Monkeys. 

A pet chimp,
A killer pit bull,
Kill the lizard
And be faithful.

My love won’t ever stop for this nature. Wild, absent, and villain shocks and flocks my head. Help me, love. Help the one you’ve loved. I’m in a Tarantino movie, you hit the best shot but I wish I could know how to stop bleeding. It’s too bloody late, your tears have made me dead.

Cats and rabbits,
Never seen your little tips.
From the heart of a hogget,
Laying down in the bed, unpleasant.

I love the beginnings, in spite of the ends. Let’s hug each other. When your head is on my chest, when your little hands come through my body, I feel the best; much better than all the rest.

Love, love, love, I want your love. Forever and ever. I can’t breath without it. I’ve got the reasons for living and dying. What would I want more?

Cancerland

One of the boring days in the neighbourhood. I, today, wake up thirsty as hell, just like the old days. The apartment at which I live is as poisonous as at least the city I live in. I don't mind my sore-throat and I just put the half-empty whisky bottle in my mouth.

I feel a little dizzy once I get up. By getting some help from the furnitures around me, I get myself out of the home, which is possibly the worst one. I have my viewfinder with me. It's as if I curse at all the people who live in this city when I get outside and breath in the nitrous smell in the air. At the people, who think that there is still life in this town. Ten years gone, maybe. How much more can the dirty rain that runs through the cracked walls contaminate me and this city? This city is like a recycle bin. It somehow can't get me, you, and the radiation out of the place, it constantly wakes us all. We all wake up. We all die. Ten years gone. I am still here. Cancer is still here.

Today, just like the other days, is unspecial. No day is special. Unless someone thinks it is. A special day, is only being disrespectful to the other days. It is to curse, the idea of a special day. To your own existence.

I watch this middle-aged married couple which lives by the side of my apartment for a while. That woman's hips are my specials. How long has it been that I realised there weren't any good neighbourhood in this city? Ten years, maybe.

I breath in the nitrous smoke of my cigarette with the nitrous smell in the air. I could never decide on which one was more nitrous. I walk for a while. Around that wet, muddy, and full of shit smelling rocky road. These people has builded up their home upon a tiny hill. They've also put some windows for their one storied rancid house. As if there is a worthy landscape to be seen. This fucked up city is not even worthy to be smelled.

I take my viewfinder. I'm at least one hundred meters away to that slum. The sky is as overcast as it could ever be. I live with a tsunami expectation for years in this neighbourhood, this fucked up place is at least ten miles away to the sea. I sometimes want to foretell an unnecessary prophecy, just like other people, for the city. Something like, this city would be erased from the map by a tsunami. It shouldn't be very hard to be supported by holy books. If all the people get the fuck out of here, this city might be endurable.

I start watching the house. If you put windows for your house in this city, you seriously want to be watched by me. To get peeked. Yes, I like this. The brown woman heads to the living room, shaking her hips. There is an indepence competition in between the hip lops of this woman. As if she doesn't own the hips but the hips own her. This woman thinks by her hips, smells by her hips, and makes love by her hips. It's like the center of gravity, the hottest spot in the whole world. As if she deserves to be peeked by me, even in that nasty peasant skirt. One day, when the guy beats up my brown woman again, I'm going to break in and kill him in front of her eyes. I don't have a gun and this is going to make me even wilder but it's okay. We're living in Cancerland, aren't we? Nobody asks me anything because I've killed a woman's husband. In fact, that's not the half of it. I'm going to replace the husband I've killed. Yes, I'm very sceptical to pay a whore. That ghetto woman and her hips are going to be mine soon and I'm going to be hers. Just like my viewfinder.

L'oubli

I used to make love when I had headaches, back then. Now all my body is sore. What could a little creature with black eyes do to me? To someone who was on the verge and said: "not now", someone that is no brave. I now ask the brain particle that gets rotted in my skull: "when will you end?" I am the paranoid that thinks all the world got together to destroy me. Yes.

When I want to live like these unconcerned women that wear daisies right on their ears, I now feel the thorns that stab my brain lobes through my skull. Still, those silence movie frames that go through my eyes, make me feel like I do have a brain. I once heard this sentence from a very bizarre animation movie: "Remembering is a more psychotic activity than forgetting." Yes. It exactly said this. I at least know that I am not a psycho. I accept it, like the people who agree with all these descriptive sentences. Yes, I am not a psycho. I am at least not this. I forget everything. I forget the people I thought I would never forget, the moments I said I would never forget, all of them... I one more time will fade away with my emotionless frame of my mind that hit the bottom till there is no even a tiny memory in my mind. How wonderful! I will become a goldfish soon. There won't even be a memory to forget. Who cares for someone who doesn't even remember a frame from his life? I now know the difference between saying, I don't remember and I don't know. That would be: NOTHING...

My Name is Paranoid

My name is Paranoid. I once left my girl supposing we could somehow get back together. I now smoke cigarettes to forget. I think, I did. If I didn't, why would I be even writing this? I am one of those idiots, who think that all the details of life are stable. I'm as paranoid as to pull the trigger that's put in my mouth. I never let the priority, don't I? Has anyone done anything before I have? Have I got anything to be upset with so that I can also be happy? 

That day, I glanced at my coffee on the table and exactly said this: "Do you know why people get happy?" I continued without waiting for another question over mine. "Because they know that some people are not." How could a person get happy if he knew that all people on the earth were happy? If all these people around the world were rich, being poor would be something wonderful.

There was an only one song in my head after these eternal discussions. Soul Kitchen by The Doors. Morrison said this:

"I light another cigarette,

Learn to forget."

Frankenstein

Frankenstein, est un roman gothique écrit par Mary Shelley et il critique la relation entre l’homme et le dieu, il a été transformé en des bandes dessinées affreuse et qu’est complément bousillé avec l’effort de  « NTV maison d’édition » ; par contre, il y a deux films adaptations belle de Frankenstein : « Frankenstein, en 1931 » et « La Fiancée de Frankenstein, en 1935. »

Frankenstein en 1931, a été un film peu plus long qu’une heure et en noir et blanc, naturellement.  Le monstre dans le film a été différent ; bien au contraire, le monstre caractère du livre a été décrit.  Exemple, le caractère, qui a été joué par Boris Karloff, ne pouvait pas parler et il a été ressuscité avec le cerveau de quelqu’un morbide. Après la scène effarante dans la cimetière au début du film, Dr. Frankenstein envoie Fritz de voler un les cerveaux à l’Université. Il y a deux nombres cerveaux dans la classe. « Cerveau Normal » et « Cerveau Anormal ». Le cerveau, est défini à titre de « cerveau normal », est membre de quelqu’un qui n’a pas d’ennuis et il n’a pas d’ennuis psychologiques, aussi; mais, « cerveau anormal » est membre de quelqu’un qu’a une personnalité sadique. Après Fritz laisse cerveau normal sur le parquet, il prend l’autre et il ne parle pas sur l’accident à Dr. Frankenstein. L’action absurde se développe de cette manière. Originalement, l’énonciation de Le Fiancée de Dr. Frankenstein est mieux, techniquement; mais dans Frankenstein, l’histoire de ressuscitation de la monstre a été traité pour la première fois, les scènes fantastiques plus ont été traités, originalement.

Le rôle de Frankenstein a été offert à Bela Lugosi; mais lui-même, il a pensé qu’il abîme son charisme, probablement ; il a refusé. Par hasard, Lugosi, qui penser qu’il serait déshonoré avec le rôle de Frankenstein, n’a pas hésité jouer en les films de Ed Wood. Au total, il devint son dernier. La annotation, de je parle sur quoi, a été relaté dans le film de Tim Burton quel est Ed Wood (qui a été dénommé ainsi le réalisateur pire).

Il y a aussi des références mythologiques dans Frankenstein de Mary Shelley. Exemple, tel que le docteur vivifie le monstre avec la foudre. Originalement, c’est la référence à Prométhée de la grecque mythologie et puis cette œuvre a été publiée à titre de « Frankenstein ou le Prométhée moderne »  en Turquie.

Si nous citons sur Prométhée :

« Prométhée, qui a été su dénomme ainsi le fils de Iapetus, est le artisan expert. Il voler le feu de Zeus pour conduire y a l’humanité. Bien plus, selon un autre mythe, il crée l’humaine en l’argile et il a lui vivifié avec une partie de le feu divin. » La logique de rendre l’âme à l’humaine avec le feu, ici, elle a été symbolisée à titre de le foudre dans le film et le livre.

L’histoire de La Fiancée de Frankenstein s’est remplissant avec le drame et l’intrigue à l’encontre de l’horreur. Je pense que l’amour de Elizabeth et le docteur n’ont pas réfléchis bon (parce qu’on a focalisé plus sur le monstre); mais, le monstre ne parle dans ce film, à titre de le film première, a été bon. Sauf erreur, il a été fait avec les demandes de Boris Karloff. La fiancée aussi, a été bonne conçus. Littéralement, elle est une dame gothique.

Il y a aussi une parodie de Frankenstein, ainsi nommé « Frankenstein Junior » en 1974.

En somme, quand Frankenstein de Mary Shelley a une atmosphère gothique (l’ambiance pluvieuse et grisâtre de l’Angleterre, des bâtiments grands et anciens, la maison qu’est le docteur développe son travail et ainsi de suite), le Frankenstein avec Boris Karloff a été décoré avec l’horreur et la tension. Une petite annotation, je ne sais pas si Mary Shelley a essayé de multiplier l’intrigue avec les caractères turcs mais elle a écrit quelque chose irréel. Si tu ne sais pas sur les turcs, tu n’as pas écrit à. Nous sommes bien de la sorte à savoir. Exemple, dans le livre « Neuromancien » de William Gibson, il y a un livre à İstanbul. Il a décrit de façon qu’il ait été un turc. Mais les fixages de Mary Shelley sur les hommes turcs a été très bas et irréel.

En dernier, dans la chanson « My Creation » de l’album « Rust in Peace » quelle a été publiée après ans, il y a un Frankenstein référence. Cette chanson quelle est la plupart du peuple ne prête pas attention au album merveilleux; originalement, il a montré à nous comment capture une bonne énonciation avec les paroles simples. La voix de Dave Mustaine provient entre des riffs de guitare difficile :

« I’ll make for you

A soul-mate to love

Unlike your love for me,

And you’ll take my name.

She will be your bride,

She will serve me, too,

And I will introduce to you… the Bride!

The Bride of Frankenstein!”

Originalement, quand il a été une chanson qui critique la relation entre l’homme et le dieu, elle est devenue quelque chose comme : « Mary Shelley a aussi fait, pourquoi ne pas nous faire une référence de Frankenstein ? »

An Unborn Child

He woke up and washed the burr on his face away. He was still sleepy as always. His girlfriend was to prepare some food for breakfast. As she got out of the bath, she hugged and kissed him. They walked down the hallway and entered the living room. Having a nice breakfast, some things were still wrong. They knew it. They’d been suspecting that the girl was pregnant. It’s a usual thought if an adult girl is not having her period on time. Especially, if the same girl have sex with her boyfriend each night.

“All hell can’t stop us now.”

Things are always fucked up. His old girlfriend used to say “life always screws you up whenever you try to put a meaning to it.”

An unborn child’s life is to screw up his whole life. No one knows what kind of coincidences chain builds up his own identity.

How can you blame a person because he is not acting like a responsible man if no one asked him “do you ever want to exist in this fucking world?” How can you decide on giving birth to an unborn child when he might choose to not come to this world? If a mother is so full of love for her child, why does she only care for her life by having a kid?

An unborn child’s destiny is drawn by his parents, who always talk about “free will”. But this time, he’s lucky. His father knows the truth. He’ll never have his girl give a birth to a child, who’ll occasionally talk about how he wants to die and to be never existed. He knows everything. He knows that he cannot live with these lies. He’d taken a knife and stabbed his girl right through her stomach. The blood was everywhere. The girl was screaming like hell. She had died in his arms. Everything is normal now. Everything is peaceful. An unborn child’s life had already screwed up his whole life. He’d lost everything and won over his little child.

Passion takes over the place. He’d got closed to the unborn child’s shadow and said: “May the force be with you.” Peace is everywhere, in her dead body, in the child’s soul, all over the bloody knife.

Peace always wins... Because we starve for it. No one knows what it means. Every bloody war ends up in peace. This is our lies of running from the truth. “She’s now in peace”. “His body is resting now.”

Making decisions in place of someone else is always what we dream of. Nevertheless, no one gives us that chance and it makes us bloody whores. He suddenly realised the truth and instead of writing “Rest in Peace” on his family’s gravestones, he’d carved these words:

“Rust in Peace”...

How to Hit the Bottom

Sitting in a green couch in which they always get uncomfortable feelings. If only a soul-mate (if so called) fills you with blank feelings, you can just ask yourself “why am I going through this pointless relationship?” They keep saying, I love you, though. Such a meanless progress, when you are just full-filled with such emptiness. Still, you sometimes miss that feeling. This is the weird part, I think. This makes you realize that you are still a human.

Have you ever thought that you look like a chimpanzee when you are kissing the one you love? Having your lips upon her lips, such an ugly moment. Picturing people having sex is also a comedia. However, you keep enjoying this ugly moment because of your penis. I would like to say to her, “you have a moustache”. Still, girls are considered beautiful because they have cunts.

Whenever you think of your life putting in order, you always end up with this shitty result: why so serious? Because it’s never “that” serious and you just get mad at yourself. Why would you even need this person when she/he already screws up your whole life? Yet it sounds like a teenager complaining, it’s the truth itself.

As long as you realise, life is not that serious, you start worrying about others because they are way too serious. People, who are get involved with politics, for instance. Thinking their country is such a holy country, sounds like they are just bunch of losers. In fact, they completely are. Kids grow up with their idiotic bravery stories and end up the same. It’s like, you are living in this country so it must be the best one because you are the best. I think, the basic feeling behind this fascism is totally about that. You love your country because you love yourself. You think you deserve this much but you are totally fucked up. And if you realise that you are fucked up before you die, they blame you by calling you an anarchist or public enemy.

Realising that you are fucked up with all the details of your life and accepting it is sort of a total freedom. Just glide along, like the water itself. Everything goes from your life and you’re such a loser. And until you’re accepting this truth, you are totally lost. If you’d been an immortal as you thought, you wouldn’t have watched super-hero movies. You watch those stuff because it impresses you, being an immortal. Because you are totally fucked up and no one gives you a shit. In fact, some people even want you dead because of your identity.

Some say: “Pretend that you’re fine” but it’s always far away from that and you keep trying it over and over again. I’ve found my own solution: “accept the truth and confront with it” which should be accepting how your life sucks and how pathetic you are because this is the only truth. Accept all of the details one by one until the end.

“Music is your only friend,

 Until the end...” - James Douglas Morrison.

Chinatown

A rare 1974 film that villains win at the end... It doesn't make it any worse that watching this movie for second time, as a lover of Jack Nicholson's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. I don't want to suggest rest of the writing for anyone else who didn't watch the movie. It may contain much spoilers, or less. I don't know. But don't read it though.



Hearing "Chinatown" dialogues non-stop in the movie and seeing Chinatown at the end scene, shouldn't be considered as a bad element; conversely, it is a quite message that the movie will be concluded at that scene -for me, it became more complicated. Like other Hitchcock detective stories, the audience locks on the main character in the movie. The camera never closed up, for instance, to the Hollis Mulwray character chased by the detective, its reason is to make the audience lock on the main character. The audience locks on the detective character in this very scene that when the detective takes photos of Hollis and the girl, in fact, you may even be more nervous than the detective’s himself when he falls off the tiles. It’s a more logical detail, that the detective puts a watch under the Hollis’ car and when he takes after, he finds out how many minutes he stayed there, than saying: “This movie is really bad.”













Another detail is the scene that Evelyn Mulwray leans her head to the steering wheel while J.J. Gittes talks to her, she accidentally honks and she’s suddenly startled. While considering this scene as sort of a joke, we see her head on the hoot at the final scene after hearing shouts of the girl from a distance and hoots of the slackening car, then, the camera zooms-in and we see her exploded head on the car horn.



To conclude, it’s a great movie with its storyline, with Jack Nicholson’s acting, with the scene, which shocks to audience, that Evelyn Mulwray says: “She is my sister and my daughter.” with its Chinese gardener, who says: “Bad for glass.” and having one of the best scenes in cinema (when Gittes takes photos of the girl and Hollis from the roof, the camera shows Gittes and we see the reflection of the girl and Hollis in the camera’s lens of Gittes). Besides, it’s stupid that that frame wasn’t used as the DVD cover or something.
















The storyline, a dark final sequence, seeing the main place at the end of the movie, shouldn’t be considered as a bad element. Conversely, it gives the audience a reaction, like, “What the...?”



Nevertheless, Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil appears as a better movie in this genre, in my opinion.

Psycho

            Psycho is an original and unique, a black and white Alfred Hitchcock movie, which was terribly remade by Gus Van Sant (in color) after 38 years in 1998. Even though, the remake of Psycho has almost the same things in common with the original movie (physical features of the characters, camera angles), it’s not a show of Hitchcock’s, to make the movie black and white in 1960. Considering the technical features of the movie and to see the 38 years older version is better, we can understand that how a director could make a bad movie or a good movie. The main reason of making the movie black and white is to summon the audience into the movie and to increase the element of stress. This is the movie that started the cliché of shower scenes in movies. And as most people know, this shower scene had been recorded in one week. It’s one of the best transitions in the cinematic history when the camera switches to Marion’s eye from the bathtub’s hole. I think it could compete with the transition scene when the camera switches to the space shuttle from the thrown bone by the Ape in 2001: A Space Odyssey. It’s also a nice detail that water flows reverse of clockwise.

                I don’t want to pass by this movie by a couple sentences but adding more details and being aware that many people already know all of these routines. But still, it’s a nice movie to talk about.

                Before seeing the first scene, we’re already aware of the stress of this movie while being shocked by the theme music. It’s not just made up by closer notes as usual in horror movies. We can surely say that the maker of this music is a schizophrenic person. The storyline appears as something so simple –as usual in other Hitchcock movies, but there are many details in hidden symbols. For a simple instance, while Marion puts 40.000$ into her purse when she goes to work, she seems extremely comfortable and she doesn’t have an idea, like to steal the money. When it converts to the next scene, we see her with a black bra and we simply understand that she’s got the idea of stealing the money and the camera zooms-in to the money-case. However, her bra in the first scene was a white bra. A similar example to this, Norman has a hobby, like filling the dead birds, and says to Marion: “You- you eat like a bird.” (Bird means “woman” in English slang).

                In the audience’s mind, the story starts to be formed simply, from here. We watch the Marion’s trip and we understand her feelings from her mind (her visions while on the trip). In fact, Hitchcock affords to bring this scene in longer sequences is about the idea of becoming a whole with Marion and not knowing anything about what’s going to happen next- as she doesn’t know. It’s an element we always see in Hitchcock movies that feeds the stress. The Breakpoint happens when Marion goes into the Bates Motel, because of the rain. Marion doesn’t see anyone in the office and look up from the window and see a duplex house. There is a woman’s shadow in the second floor’s window. The thing we should pay attention here is that the house symbolizes the Norman Bates character. The mother figure in the second floor is superego, the one that lives a normal life in the ground floor is ego, and the basement is id. As a matter of fact, only scene when Norman becomes wild is to be seen in the basement.

                Notwithstanding, Norman watches Marion from the hole in the wall, which he’s made, and goes to his house. He hesitates on going to upstairs and stays in the ground floor. Marion thinks about what she’s done at the moment and felt remorse. She’s going to try to get rid of her personal trap, as she’s told Norman. Suddenly, the fateful shower scene happens to be done. Marion Crane is stabbed and murdered by Norman’s mother. If we approach the event from the mind of Freud –and we obviously should, we could say that the knife is the reified form of the rape. The one who murders is superego. Couple minutes later, Norman yells like: “Blood! Blood!” and runs to the room and starts cleaning as a little child who wants to cover up his mother’s fault. Henceforth, the audience becomes a whole with the Norman Bates character. Until that scene, the style of Hitchcock’s at the working of the story makes the audience think like, “I’m watching a woman’s adventure, who’s stole her boss’ 40.000$ in order to get married with her boyfriend.” When Marion Crane dies, the audience is purely shocked. After that scene, the movie starts containing stress and horror elements, and it keeps turning around by the detective jumps into the story.

                

HOME

We’re coming across the ocean, by the noises of eagles. There is a couple in the jungle. They are curious as they are afraid a little bit. Jungle must be infinite. There are no foot-steps to follow. Only thing could be done is just walking around non-stop. We are not interested in who they are. We would have never asked, where are they coming from? Past is never important. People would not know about the past, instead of the future. Past is mysterious but future is outrageous. You can organize everything in your head but there may always be disorder.

                The girl is shaking by the night. Her man holds her in his arms. There is no sound but the noises of animals. Being alone with the nature turns them all. They have no ones to care for, they have no ones to be cared by. They have only each other to care for. He can look into her eyes and he can only care for her life in the jungle and he will have known that it was only her who cared for him. 

                She dies in his arms for no reason.

                “Away from the house, together in the home.”

Vortex

                Day time or night time? It’s indefinite. But the definite thing is, there is a round-table. It’s a common day. Nothing is special. Nothing is special every day. Light beams come from the window and lighten the men vaguely, who are sitting around the table. They are wearing black suits. There is life around here but not on this table, not in these men’s hearts. Top of the table is not able to be seen.

                First guy starts talking, feeling deep purple: “It’s my nightmare, man. I’m not able to do anything that I want in this fucking world. I wish it was just possible to do. Imagine a world you’re completely free. It mustn’t be drugs or alcohol. I want to feel it. You kill someone but you’re not a murderer, you know. I don’t want to stick in one position. I don’t want to be responsible from my acts. I don’t want to be punished for this, either. Could it be even possible? It’s weird, you know. Freedom doesn’t remind you something about ‘freedom’. We are just volunteer slaves and it’s sort of a freedom, right?” Waitress passes by the guy with her mini-skirt. She has long legs and she’s wearing black stockings. He just stares at the girl and she has a white rabbit tattoo on her right arm. The guy starts chasing the girl to the east.

                Second guy starts talking in a hopeless way: “When I was a little kid, there was a ‘pink castle’ in my neighborhood. I used to play soccer with friends around it. But now, when I look at my neighborhood, I only see a dirty pink house.” He hides something behind his words. He is emotionless, maybe. He wants to feel again as he used to. Suffering, relaxing, first and foremost: living… Outside of the place, a car appears, which looks more like a machine. It may carry him into his childhood. He just walks to the car and disappears.

                Third guy bends his head forward and starts talking shilly-shally: “Well… I’ve been told that I’m an awful person, a sinner. God would punish me. God would punish everyone. I just want to see it.” He takes out his knife and stabs himself cowardly with a huge spot of light. He disappears…

                Before fourth guy starts talking, it’s obvious to see his humbled face. He starts talking softly: “I thought I was the one. Like the only one snow flake in the world, you know. I was the best. I must have been. It was my only choice. I should have been loved by everyone. I could have done anything in this world, you know. I thought I did. I was careless. No one cared for me back.” No one but no one around the table, cares for his words. He goes on his life with his upset face.

                Fifth, “I am a girl…” … “This is my fault.” She walks away, feeling ashamed. And words start dropping with her tears:

                 “I am wearing the beams of light
                  Wrap it around me
                  Feeling strong against the world
                  Dip my finger in the cold water
                  Of the hidden river in a forest
                  Giving life to nature
                  The stream drain away
                  Making curls
                  Heading for an endless move…”

                 She is so beautiful to be dead.

       
                Sixth guy… is alone… looks around. “And I…” nobody is there but the fourth guy. He’s not able to see him. He walks to the west. The place starts getting darker as we get closer to the top of the table. There is a big vortex on the surface of the table. The Vortex is calling for us. We are not able to do anything in the presence of the vortex. The only thing could be done is just letting yourself for your destiny. We always get lost. We are the lost children of God. We did get lost in the Vortex again. Black.

                                                                              THE END