“Try to remember the sequence of events….”
we are ….we are —where? I’ve not been sleeping —there seems to be some kind of ….ominous warning comes lately to me whenever I sleep
I am half mad lately. Such weird things in the dreams thst I just can’t will myself back into sleep
“What happened first?”
Oh…. it is Jörn’s voice.
It is present. I am confused.
“What?” I say
“The time with the ….the time you had your first episode as a child,” he says now with a soft and most reluctant sigh
but even thst feels ….
as if it belongs to some other life …. who was that little girl? where did she go? no, she just disappeared, don’t think about her anymore …. sometimes I know it is wrong. We ought to honor her. But she just couldn’t stay. And was just not tough enough. I guess we don’t like her for that. But we keep the guard anyhow.
“What time?—oh—the buckle scar?— I was five …. “ unconsciously I put up my hand to where it hit and wonder why it matters to Jörn to ask me this—is it twisted in the codes of the hidden medallion?
Jörn walks back and worth in front of me.
He says,
“Duva ….” and it is his voice
You see. It catches me off guard. He kneels down to where I am sat watching the black forest night view behind the piano. I watch into the void through thst two story plate glass window. Even as I know what he plays…. as he stops and steps away …. I still see the shadows on the wall of those bats as I hear hear him play those familiar keys
it lulls my mind back ….
there
His voice is up against my ear but I am drowning because I know what he is going to say,
“think….when did he stop coming? Before or after the incident?”
it is like a rush of golden white light.
“After.”
And the clear. The clouds break away.
He says,
“but not right away,”
“No…. no…. It was much later ….it was because of what happened ….”
but I cannot speak. I try. I go cold.
He says,
“that’s enough for now….” he lifts me and carries me from the floor
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