Chains and wheels and constant motion, the cobble stones giving a blurred vision of the world as I rock back and forth, up and down, legs everywhere and the leafs still green on the trees  – but for how long? A conversation by the river, the same old tales of woe, naked people and the law. Irish folk songs in the background as we run down the green hills, into the abyss of flesh and lust, come up on the other side, soaked from swimming with the ducks, onto the bicycle for the next part of the triathlon. Ice cream is melting everywhere although the sun barely shows its face, your face, another woman’s, no inhibition and yet so orderly, so seedy but organized, the whole affair. No coffee in the morning, no wine in the evening, just water and the purest delirium throughout the entire day. Frenzy for hours, then self-reflection, a reflection of faces, of bottoms, of old men playing chess, of children running around happily, of couples breaking up, of couples moving in together. Large groups gather both inside and outside, boats float across the river, upsetting the reflection of the sky. Upsetting, what one sees, upsetting what one lets happen when the opportunity arises. Upsetting, but freeing. Freeing the prisoners, it’s field day in school as well as prison. Shackles, mind-forged as well as by the blacksmith, and thoughts caught without the iron; a harp, a violin. Paint, thick on a canvas, seaweed on the bank, no money in it. In none of it. Just joy, bewilderment, confusion, excitement, boredom – life.

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