All the blue things

   This year the moss has grown again, between the tiles. The tiles have been covered with a black green. Mom asks me for the sunday's newspaper. I leave it on the couch and look out the window. Then I think about Daniel with strenght. There's a movement in the trees, in the street. The trees are cut behind the blue sky.
  There's a beetle with a red head walking down the moss, making a strange balance with its body. Suddenly it stops, its small shadow gets black, reflected on the dark blue moss. The beetle is aware of Daniel's presence. It stands quietly next to him, hidden in the blue-green blanket. The beetle doesn't move, it's a little black statue, a little and strange creation of nature.
   Daniel sees me through the window's glass. I feel chills, , it's great, and I heat up my hands by friction. I'm stiff, my hands resting on the sink. My sight, right now, is almost lost.
   I go out to hold him, and mom makes a noise when she turnes the newspaper's pages. The door produces a dry and metallic noise when it closes behind me.
   Daniel says, "I saw you there, behind the window". I laugh and feel a cool breeze. I bend down and practice a hole in the ground and sink some flower seeds deep down. Then I cover the little hole. The trees are still moving, the sky stands blue. Daniel looks at me, without saying anything. Then he bends and kisses me. I get up holding on to Daniel. And the sky is still there, behind the green and silky cedars.
   It's going to grow a tulip, a pink tulip. The beetle moves again, in silence.
   There will be a full garden in spring.
   And Daniel says nothing.
   Mom is watching us through the window.
   And I feel nothing.

People

The rich are sick and mad,
the poor are sick and mad,
the ones from the middle are sick and mad,
the ones from the frontier are dead and rotted,
the rest doesn't exist.