I stand infront of a swirly vase made of glass, in it nothing but two caterpillars.
One green, one brown, both as big as a mans palm. I watch them crawl around the rim
not one daring to strech over it and escape. I jokingly ask the girl in whose bedroom I'm standing
„ Can i feed them to the geese? “.
„ No “ She responds. As i walk through the house she lives in, I run into her mother.
„ Hey, do you even have geese? “ i say.
„ Well of course! “ the mother said.
„ Can i feed them the caterpillars? “
„ No, they are her caterpillars... “
The girl, which I don't know in real life grabs my hand and leads me outside. We go for a walk.
We head out into a market, we walk through a cozy neighbourhood,
I'm wearing a shirt with rolled up sleeves, it's warm.
Now on the way back, we walk in middle of the road, wide enough for no more than a car and a half.
I look to the ground, a pool of blood, out on the road.
„ Look, there's a piece of ear “ i say calmly, pointing to the curb.
„ Oh, you will get used to this “ Says the girl.
The road has a slight curve on the way to the market, in that curve, sits about a fifty meter long
zone, through which i and the girl walk almost daily. Finding evidence of a crime everytime we pass.
A piece of scalp.
An Eyelid
Toenails
Lips
It turns into a little game, we try to be the first to find something before the other person does.
I woke up.
The way the usual became the "normal" disturbed me when i woke up.
I tremble, sitting in the snow, in a little dugout seat I made with my ice axe,
on an approximately 60°slope.
I push my knees into the sides of my head, my helm lays beside me,
I have to be careful not to make it fall down.
My back is cold, wind is sweeping ice crystals into it at a disturbing speed.
I'm beyond exhausted. Words in my mind sound like voices speaking right next to me
they melt together
creating nothing but a slop
trying to sound normal
ending up as mumbles instead
I cannot move, It's over.
I cannot recognise what's real and what is not
I cannot wake up
Between the incoherent sounds i hear a voice speak
„What?“
---
„What are you doing here?“
----
„I know i need to start moving“
-------
„Why should i go up? i need to get down.“
---
„What do you mean immortal?“
The voice is fading, so is the lonely climber who stood above me
I stand up
Put on my helmet
Tighten the backpack straps
Prepare my ice axes
And i turn towards the peak once again.
I've climbed with my friends two times in total I'm usually alone in the mountains, same goes for dreams.