Cesta na polárny kruh/ Journey to the Polar Circle

Spoza studenej steny nedeľnej vane sa vynára Tvoj svet. Ľevandulové listky a kvietky nedobrovoľne uvaznené v kutoch bielej fasady. Skúsenosť relaxácie je možnosťou vyplaviť prebytočné myšlienky ešte podnietená. Prsty na nohách ako struny na gitare vyľadujú príliv vodného prúdu. Neelegantne popíjam pivo (ale, no tak. Vo vani?) Cítim moje zlomené srdce. Hrá v ňom Bon Iver. A ja lámem srdcia inde. Snáď mi Mila Haugova a David Sedaris, posedávajúci na krajíčku vane odpustia moje vodné rozmary. Vlasy mi víria vo vode ako malý čierny krokodýl. Okolo pŕs. Ponad trupom. Ponaraním dávam svojim rukám existenciu. Vnáranim im dávam zbohom. A aj všetkým čiernym krokodýlom.

Behind the cold walls of Sunday bathtub, Your world arises. Lavender leaves and blossoms involuntarily confined to corners of white façade.  The whole experience of relaxation is enhanced by the possibility of venting exceeding thoughts. Toes, as guitar strings, are tuning the tide of water streams. I am inelegantly drinking beer (yes, in the tub). Feeling my broken heart. Bon Iver is playing in it. However, I am breaking hearts elsewhere. Perhaps, Mila and David (Sedaris), settled on a brink of bathtub, forgive my watery whims. My hair is floating in the water as a little black crocodile. Around my breasts. Above my torso. Emerging brings about existence of my arms. By submerging I give them  farewell. So to all black crocodiles.

“We’ ll be together until we die”. ~ “Uhm.” ~ “Even after…~” How can you be sure that the person you find is me.” ~ “We’ ll figure it out, we’ ll find a way”.