Moon Palace.

It's a bright, cloudless night, the moon soaks the street with it's white, milky light. I look up to the moon. It occurrs to me, I never noticed that before, that the surface looks like som kind of housing, almost like a white palace made out of white round holes, each home to some mysteriuous creature. It's so far away; peaceful, surely pitoresque, but mainly peaceful. It resembles of such grace and quite peace that i taste salty water in my mouth. I wish I were up there, in that palace of peace.

I wish I'd been up there on this day a year ago. That night was dark, cold and foggy. A red light flashed through the fog an illuminated the sleeping houses.

I can still hear them counting, still can hear the little constant beep, still can see that foggy creature bending over another much smaller foggy creature.

Oh Mother Mary, i can still hear the shots!

If I'd only been up on the monn, in that peaceful, quite palace up there in the nightly sky. It was very cold that night, from the outside and from the inside. I still have that counting in my ear: "one two three.." up to fifteen, then back to one, until it grew all silent. Two of the three foggy creatures get up, one remains on the ground. Now the fog rises, I can see clearly, nothing is blocking my sight, nothing is blocking my memories, the moon white street is just as white as the dead boy's face.


(Diesen Text von 2002 hab ich heute wieder gefunden. Fand ihn gut genug, um "veröffentlicht" zu werden..)