Lissy is becoming more light-sensitive than ever. In August last year, she experienced the following:

While sat on a real thin-wheeled bicycle, she first spotted a blob intruding the surface of a relatively concrete landscape that was unfolding before her scanty eyelashes. A moment later, she abruptly felt as if someone were ripping out an entire hemisphere of an inner celestial object she had been gently nurturing for decades now; within her personal microcosm. It felt strong/major/intense:

“Knock, knock, knock.”

“Open? Open? Open? Babe?”

Gulping down the remnants of the landscape and transitioning into a sharp headache, the watercoloured blob (нерукотворный) that her grandfather had pointed at in a dream last night came after Lissy. 

“Lol. It is inherently vicious, ” she concluded.

“I knew it. He was lying to me. Why?” she let out a prolonged sigh.

“I remember him telling me coition was a non-existent element in this city of burning palms and graceful pinkies.” While recalling this, she realised that the actual place she happened to drop the pin at was the city of regurgitated memories. A city-state even.

Here, Lissy blacks out. Or it’s the blob. It’s the blob that blacked out that Lissy girl. 

So Lissy takes great pains and blacks in again. Lissy is in the black, dark blue, back in black again. Yay. Chatting with the devil. She was chatting with the devil? 

Now, she is sitting in this café, bespectacled, blunting her emerald sight behind the so-called transition lenses of recently purchased (online) Lindberg glasses. She is a little perplexed. There are no visible means of transportation out there. There is no blob anymore.

Everyone around Lissy is talking vessels, while Lissy is a vessel for litres of Aperol Spritz at this instant. She would actually swallow any other drink as long as it is served in what she used to call a ‘complicated enough girl’ type of cocktail glass. If it is a glass that has a rifled stem for instance. Such a glass would remind her of a very distinct type of grace inherent in cannons, like the Austrian Feldkanone M75 or something. This type of militant intuition would compensate for not perusing Jünger sufficiently in her teenage years. Oh, Lissy.

Watching this disco ball rotate in red light, slowly and continuously, was something that made her left eye twitch. Normally, a limited dosage of such a lighting constellation would subject her body to rapid muscle relaxation. She directs a thank-you-bb-nevertheless-and-always-xoxo-lissy. “Thank you for the twitch, sweet, ” she murmurs silently.

Lissy is not quite sure whether the celestial object she raised/gave birth to (difficult to decide) belongs to a higher realm or not, nor is she ceirtain whether it is time to shed her skin finally. Her date, Billy, is willing to interact with a skinless skinny bitch, she deduces. Bare and beautiful, monumentally open to his real Billy presence. He is not always hundred percent sure about his visions either.

Lissy accepts a drink from Billy. He is paying the bill oh-how-funny, -Lissy. Why are you such a dancing entity in these disco ball lights, и настолько рассыпающее фрагментирующее? Лисси угрожает ему своей бесконечной улыбкой, понимаешь? 

A cigarette falls from her mouth, she picks it up clumsily. The blob is back. Cannot escape. She’s doing the Ctrl+Enter key combination, failing. An itchy nose accompanying the over-twitched eye.

Lissy losing control, celestial object gone. Someone hijacked the other half. I am tired, I am in awe, and I am indebted as well. I cannot stop watching Lissy do her things being clumsy: losing a cigarette, then a package, then a myriad of stars. 

All of them. She lost them all. 

Now, I have to come over and collect them. Fucking hell, Lissy, I just wanted to say bye to you.