Last night I got off the phone this occasion with my best friend, which I thought was a noisy, excited monologue rather for twenty minutes, the biggest for me reason never to pull, the supermarket in the home. This 200 Quadtrameter wide space strikes me every time so pumped full with mental infinitesimal, that after every single visit I’m willing to prove a mandala painting course to reduce of my super aggression must there within a few minutes. It is a bit like in the Zoo of Petting, except that wants to fondle anything or anyone, in the face of what is happening from the shelf and in the corridors, you only cry.
Basically there are no further words of the Declaration, at this point you can safely free rein the own imagination and all stereotypes, the cross-section of the human sausage salad of the wasteland is namely exactly so, how one imagines him, at least in my mini village which belongs to a slightly larger village, where it is again quite different to. Here but grow mainly Beates and Renate, who work off their shopping lists than there would be to win a prize, there is also, perhaps by the hungry husband, you can see men indeed hardly any, but to narrow to properly turned on hair that is perched on frozen faces. In between is what keeps this stuff, who’s friend gegackert over others and who enemy is difficult to guess who has the best son-in-law, white man but precisely: “the MICAH building now a House, who drives a nice car, Nice is” you hear that often. Hardly somewhere else, which would be accessible, the really important factors of happiness of existence seem to be treated like this so stepmotherly, it is as if one studied volunteer day in, day out surfaces, with the perfect fence for example, so that you can not even in danger, having to look beyond the own horizon. At the end you would get still thirst for life or just looking for change and that would mean a social suicide.
Happy include here only may, who complies with the standard. Everyone else take on the role of the smelly donkey, that and do a few tricks to brighten existence of eternally bored, which can laugh at themselves–at least for the most stupid donkey crap. I’m so a donkey. Whenever I stumped stand in sweatpants and sneakers before the bananas, with a Meatball on the ear, because the distant neighbor cannot grasp, that the child in this Neukölln from the newspaper must grow up. Why I think still about it, at some point the nauseam return to narrow lap of my childhood, or at least nearby, is a mystery that can still be resolved: because of all the moments and people that wait beyond the supermarket checkout. But back to the beginning.
With nine years I learned how to steal the most skilled eggs, driving tractors and picking cucumbers, with ten I felt for the first time this core of pride, pain I was advised by a piece of finger between the tree house and nail, with eleven I went along with the guys next door on the beet trailer of the neighbouring farmer on the way over the Dutch border , we were bagged and quickly conceded the biggest thunder of our young lives, with twelve I knew how to make fire in the rain and self-carved Flitzebogen and came with thirteen puberty.
Until then, I loved nothing more than the lovely wide of the plate Rhineland which was disturbed only by a handful of wind turbines on the horizon. But then came the hatred that sooner or later comes everyone who grows up, where only four times a day, a bus departs. Where shooting out is farrowed until one threw up or is divorced and you actually can do nothing else than Funkyball challenge to take on the lights himself, to escape the dark of the Kaffs. Actually. Were not these subtleties that I had to look for a long time in the city and sometimes still miss it. Above all genuine, sincere people, those who may not particularly like to me are my heart but all the more. The louder at my flat jokes to laugh as I can burp on command, which does not grumble because I just cut the sidewalk with the wheel, which alone with me, if I have nothing to say, that shine, although Monday is and do not roll with the eyes, because I am slower than the rest of the checkout line. Those are the worst restless, who do not want to understand that friendship from the avocado bread food comes, the chameleons change their color and opinion according to need and leave anywhere a little pee-pee, where there’s something to eat. The roofed permanently on the own advantage spineless. The always hectic, the constantly whining, that desperate for more and more thirsting.
Town, country, frustration so. You can turn it and contact and hate so much and love you want – who both put in itself has, should stop wasting too much energy on anger veins pulsate always then most fiercely if the own fence is just the most bright frilly meters. Where I’ll end up old, I can not imagine yet, because I know one thing by now: the whole world is an Affenstall. I would like to simply always exactly be where are my favorite monkey.