svētdiena, 2008. gada 3. augusts

the frozen boy / notes of a dirty old man

[..] I stared at the bathroom tiles. the tears came but I made no sound. he stopped beating. he usually gave me fifteen or twenty lashes. he stopped at a mere seven or eight. he ran out of the bathroom, "Mama, Mama, I think our boy is CRAZY, he don't cry when I whip him!" "you think he's crazy, Henry?" "yes, mama." "ah, too bad!"
it was only the first RECOGNIZABLE appearance of The Frozen Boy. I knew that there was something wrong with me but I did not consider myself insane. it was just that I could not understand how other people could become so easily angry, then just as easily forget their anger and become joyful, and how they could be so interested in EVERYTHING when everything was so dull.

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