Fierce beauties, red kiss, drunk nights of weirdness and enchantment, a ticket to Wonderland from time to time, cabaret romance, nostalgic longing in foreign eyes, death defying nihilists dancing with a fag between their fingers, entitled gothic dominatrix, and lick-shoe submissive big boys with
ducktail hair style, a troupe of crepuscular creatures, a blank memory card, Delia’s warmth in bed at dawn when coming home, the smiling faces of my daughters right before passing out without brushing my teeth. These are what I stay alive for.

There I am, slightly drunk and gripped by the lovely bestiary collected in the memory card. There I am, mesmerized by three beauty spots under the small boobs of the Red Queen. I wonder how the fluffy soutien stays in it’s place, but most of all I notice deep sadness or melancholy in her eyes, some kind of homesickness, some kind of saudade. And I want to hold her in my arms and say that everything is gonna be alright, but all I can do is rehearse a smile at her Ooops and be grateful to photography for providing me the endless occasion for human closeness, and for this night, for these gurus in how to take myself more lightly, the master class in the admiration of diversity. And most of all, for the ultimate sentimental reminder: sometimes we are the only thing that other stranded person has in a given moment.

Watermelon hopelessly waited for execution.
Tomatoes, in total observance and acquiescence to the Lawful Authority, piled up in the bucket to prevent and suffocate any sign of insurgency and uprising.
But Green Pepper began to doubt the righteous and blameless power of the oppressor and outtalked Small Sissy Green Pepper to turn the Pink Tower upside down, yelling ‘Freedom! Equality! Brotherhood!’
There was copious red spill and smashed seeds on the paving stone and in its fast way street across, Watermelon tasted the brief magnificence of seven seconds of bounty, before cracking up against the water font.
No one honored the heroes. Both ended in the frying pan.

I’m pretty sure that true success (happiness) comes down to the decision to shift from frustration and fear to curiosity and fascination, and I always feel as if I am a step away from cloud nine, yet not knowing what is keeping me stuck or making me walk around with this heavy burden of uncertainty and half belief.
Next time maybe I will let things just flow at the speed of trust, abdicating all enquiry about the causes and reasons of the unfolding.