Somehow I just feel like blogging. So there's a section from my text, which occurred during 2009 tja is. So something really new:
"(...) through a screen you can see nobody is really smiling, really he could have the rent for the shop also save, print at home, the two streets Next is the smell anyway after the ink and ink, after funeral cards, love letters and yellow-nots. Then a little more money left for him and he no longer would have in the store sit all day because the tools were in the apartment, and he could accept packages for you and print it for the neighbors and the mailman's signature on the handheld computer in lowercase letters, each on anyway only wavy lines painted and then pretend that it would be the name. And then would the wet prints on the table in the kitchen and on the table in the room and on the floor in the hallway and the semi-dried would be on a line above the bed hanging, but only the red with the letters, so the beautiful stories about the tingling before printing, the stories in red is different because there is not talked over the printing, in his head fall asleep and he can dream stories red, dream catchers the other way. The black would hang over the toilet, so that the bad things in the messages and cards are taken at the next sink, away from the apartment. (...)" © 2009 Lisa Wiegand
