Habitat

chimneys, antennas.. faded bricks.. a perfect ghetto silhouette..
million tons of dead buildinds with their metal implants on, standing
in a light fog, surrounds me and my ugly flat. though my vision is not
limited, i can see a bright sky.. the clouds.. every grey tones i can
imagine..
with very first scream of a crow, my daily, standart searching
procedure starts. scan the roofs, look inside the gaps between
apartments, strengthen your memory with same ugly visuals..

Pieces

a sudden rush of concious. feels like i'm a huge circuit, from my skin
to my nörons. feels a lot of pain. feels most awake.
empty ceiling. not get used to look at.
someone says something.
"can you handle that?"
...
no.
...
"then close your eyes. return to your illusions, your imagination life.
routine. wake up as you did every morning and keep asking questions.
like
you will do every day."

..............

"do you need to shave?"
no i don't have to cut them today. pass.
maybe tomorrow..

On

Hardest part of any day.
Get up.
Stare at the empty wall. Trash dreams, get rid of fantastic concious,
board to the stable real life. It is pain, all i sense, not any other
emotion.
Continues for a while..
Slowly, smoothly releases my brain. And it's over, no more feelings for
the rest of the day.
So, i get up.
Certainly i use questions to manage my day. Not to solve problems or to
decide what will i do, but to keep me awake enough. It is like a chain,
and breaking a ring disturbs me more than anything.
Did i ever stopped doing this? Surely no.
And no, i won't stop asking. No daydreaming. Have to keep that
concious, keep asking..
Did you get up?
Yes, i'm on my feet.
Additionally i check every situation twice to be sure.
Checked twice already. So you know what is next, do you?
Splash. Cold water. This helps most, extends perception skill.
Now if you're aware enough, what should you use that mood for?
...
Go check your habitat.

Prologue

Nothing really changes for some time. I've been inspecting the
vegetables that are tied-to-dry to a couple of rusty nails.
Interesting. There for "some time" but seems like they'll never rot.
Like they have found a trick about aging, they are not drying as
someone expects to be. Also this someone should be me, for being the
only human who lives in this ruined house, with lots of insects as
usual. They like these flats. Apartments. My head kills me these days.
A fountain of ideas. About nothing. About anything. I won't be
surprised if i forget anything from now on. For a man that thinks this
much, forgetting some vegetable-tying memory is neither weird, nor a
loss.
On the other hand, i am aware that it is not all about my memory.