Money in the bank, kids grown up and long gone, place empty, their lives turned south towards the childhood they had never had. They filled it mainly with the T.V., shouting their enjoyment to each other across the narrow space between their armchairs where they sat like co-pilots navigating through hours of films, soap operas, sitcoms, chat shows, crime buster series. The very softest pornography, fillitted of hard sex, the images elastic under the weight of their eyes, becoming trampolines to perfect lives of passion, laughter, fulfilled destiny, triumph over evil: theses on the fundamental physics of the human heart where love was the atom. At eleven o’clock they switched off and shuffled upstairs to the dissolution of sleep where their real histories of minute particles in infinite space architectured by gods whose true face they had never seen and could not guess, broke into fragments which they had to piece together again to remake the diamond egg within the china cup within the pottery bowl which was in a crystal ball standing on an inlaid marquetry table. Each morning they woke, relieved, disappointed, holding all the bits they could not fit in.Birth sign: Libra
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