Part 1. Monday.

the alarm is not a sound, but a dry, needle-prick in the temple. The body itself...

I sit in a giant glass kidney that filters people at night. Through me, through a hole in the body, a stream...

I crawl through this shimmering landscape, which cannot be called a forest - it is rather a forgotten attempt of a god ...

at first it only threatened - the sky darkened to the color of wet asphalt, and the air filled with ...

the sun, cut by the blade of the horizon, slowly bled into the cool bath of the sea, and that blood stained the clouds...

maybe just such a day. One of those when the city, usually gray and wrinkled as if old, ...