Jos viduje buitis virsdavo geometrija. Kiekvienas rūpestis, kiekvienas neatidėliotinas reikalas – tai ne mintis ar darbas, o kietas, aštriabriaunis kristalas, lėtai augantis kažkur krūtinės ląstoje. Ryte pabudus, jų jau būdavo keletas. Dienai bėgant, …

Tas garsas, ritmingas ir atkaklus kaip inkvizitoriaus tardymas, seniai tapo mano vidiniu metronomu, mušančiu ne maldos, o irimo taktą. Lašas. Tyla. Lašas. Prausyklos čiaupas koridoriaus gale, sugedęs gal nuo pavasario, per kiauras naktis …

The glass wall between me and them, or maybe everything - is thin, barely perceptible, but insurmountable as a flow of time. I sit in a stubborn waiting chair, which dermantine cracked like hardened land, and I observe…

The heavy, like cement dust, the body climbed into a two -storey bus, and every step is a separate breakthrough in pain through the knees and hips as if to rotate the rusty screws in the body joints. The upper floor, as always, stinks…

The past is an abandoned railway that has been on the outskirts of the city. The rails, two rusty scars are still here, but the trains are no longer driving them. I go to them slowly, carefully, as if to fall into time. Under the feet…

The washing machine drum turned its silent, mechanical ritual, and I watched it as if hypnotized, sitting on cold bath tiles. The world, reduced to soap and rotating fabrics. The soaked, tangled shapes are like drowned…