Munira


I am sitting next to Munira. Munira is the light or, in other words, the darkness. She is reading behind my shoulder the words I’ m typing and in her familiar stalinish style, demands the deletion of my thoughts… Should I follow the order or should I declare revolution against her authorial – break – my – balls – attitude? Questions, questions, questions. Once I had a little game… just close your eyes… no way no loose, forget the world, forget the people and we’ll erect a different steeple… Not to touch the earth, not to see the sun, nothing left to do, but run… let’s run… OK, I’ m back. She is asking: “Where are you Going to Run?” What a lost soul can offer as an answer? She recommends repatriating to Greece -the best place in the world if you have money to burn… As I tried to continue typing, ra-ta-ta, she left the room. Come to me angel of music… The Phantom of My Opera decided to take the night off. Yet, I still adore her…

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