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What is it like to miss someone you have never met? What does it feel like to know that he is there, but he is not? I use the English language to shy away from my German mother tongue because it would be too coarse, too raw. English wraps the crumbles and spikes up into a bearable shape, like glue dripping from pebble stones as the child plays in summer dust. I have no words. Maybe I should not even use words. Words hurt too much. Words are the pebble stones. I went hiking with my dad and I found stones that looked like they were once wrapped up in a golden thread. I wrapped them up in a golden thread. And I met the stone that was like an embryo cell and I covered it in gold. And I met this man who was like a stone and I looked deep into his eyes and I saw the embryo of his heart. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to wrap him up and me in gold. I made a flying carpet for us to do so, a golden carpet. And I wanted to dive with him into the blue, the blue waters of the subconscious where everything is connected. I invited him to play with me in NEUEREALITAET. And I would never know whether this was real or not and he said... he said his love for me was like a fucking eternal orange fucking blossom whereas I said my love for you is an orange and here it is, it is served. Why did it have to be an orange blossom. He held an eternal promise that he never made become real. I saw him and I knew he did not fit into my world but I gave him the drink. I gave him - like the Drink Me bottle in Alice in Wonderland, just spelling it out to make sure you get me - I gave him a juice I made out of beetroot and I wrote on the bottle: A Tension. And he drank it. And we sat in the moonlight on the hill and I had a small sip as well. But the juice we drank was red on the first date and on the second date. And my leather gloves were red as well. And he took them and my hands in them and held my hand in the red leather glove. And I asked him many times whether I could lean onto him and he said no and this is how I fell into nothingness. I fell, fell, fell, and I made this comic that predicted the future and everything and I wrote on his hoodie - I schopenhauernized his hoodie - he read Schopenhauer which I found impressive and I got an intuitive sense of what Wille and Vorstellung are and I felt the will tearing me up and down and drowning. I dived deeper, deeper, deeper, only to meet myself. I cannot put this into words, you understand? He always said this: You understand? He explained at some point that he meant it like"...right?", like not in this offensive manner you would suppose if someone stares at you and asks you with a winning smile YOU UNDERSTAND? I used to say Yes I understand. 

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