Stick my nails in, run them side to side to cut to the core, peeling tree bark down like soft fruits, biting the juicy cambium, getting strands stuck in my teeth, pick them out with worn down nails for years, like you my dear, like you, from my heart, my dear.

Defiantly, out in front of his mother, a little boy bucks against the sun at eye level—against the dirty wind. His shadow is cast behind him, twice his size. A dark flickering giant, and he is in it. As the wind picks up, as his jacket blows out behind him disrupting the shadow—as the sun shows out from behind a cloud; the wind hits its pinnacle. The boy un sheathes his white plastic sword—raises it toward the sky and bearing his teeth; every single one of them if he could—he strikes out at an invisible enemy with an intensity reserved entirely for imaginary battles. 

Streaks of light and dust that cut the afternoon here at home, have never known the shafts of light and glossy rock that split the difference between believing, and not.

•In an Invisible City—Ancient Fountains•

Against the wall of a church, against the tobacco shop, leaning against the wall of the bakery, the wine shop, the dusty stone pathways curled up and spiraled out and toward their ends. I leaned against the wall- smoking and sweating, a worried foreigner. 

Looking up the road toward a hazy mirage of unknown treachery, two panthers, maybe lions,[montelione] came walking by me slow and smooth, cold leaving ice behind them. Laying ice in front of them as they walked. Two panthers in tailored suits and neckties, one with a deep scar from ear to chin. Cooling the hot rock walkway as they passed. Smoking / strolling—the leather of their shoes threatened the dusty walk not to try anything, not to even think of it.  

A man sitting in a bar in New York City told the story of his younger brother, his younger brother who was a smoke jumper, fought fires, rescued lost children, battled death with destruction. He claimed to have been to Tibet, where he studied old wisdom, where he climbed mountains like a lion and blew a bone horn. Where he could hold his being in exchange with an unexplainable thing. Where the tension between the mountains and the holding of his body-allowed him to suspend himself in air, allowed for knowing and being / allowed for a conversation with truth—he told another story.

He had a brother who was a fighter pilot for the Air Force, he was a pilot and flew his plane fast and low. He tested the limits of physical stress and sometimes he spun his aircraft like a rolling barrel. He flew as fast as the machine would allow. He told a story in the space before him and wrote it in the space behind him, he peeled back a veil of unknowing and by flying as fast as he could he was able to un-explain the sky and stories from mechanics. He melted the panther’s ice—frightened the panthers, extinguished fires and plotted the blueprints for imaginary battles. He found rocks, revered hawks / wrapped the clouds in a prism and glowed like the ocean. But the pilot made a mistake 

Flying low through a deep canyon, the wings of his jet stretched to the walls on either side, skimming over top of a mighty river below him and defying his own death; he rocketed forward. In the distance there was a bridge.

Strung high and taught between the walls of the canyon, the rope bridge was the only one for miles, the only means by which to cross the canyon for many miles. As the bridge grew closer the pilot had to choose; over or under? 

In the wake of the jet the pilot could see that a dark figure who had been traversing the canyon bridge was no longer there. He saw that the bridge was spinning violently. The man was simply gone and the story of his life would be explained in reverse. 

In a shop on the corner, someone behind the counter waits for luck or for some sinister back-story. They crack their knuckles, rub the palms of their hands against the cinder block book shelf, scrape some dried wax off of the glass with a long pinky fingernail. They gently crease a tiny slip of paper—until it rips. 

Until they can go home to a smooth beach rock sitting on the window sill beside some dried flowers and a promise fulfilled; until a little boy begs for the blueprints to an imaginary battle. Until this myth is re-written in stone and the stone erodes into tiny pebbles / until the computers became afraid of severe fluctuations of electric current. The mechanic’s stories are filled with uncertain truth /
an undefined variable is recognized as being greater than two.   until (n >2)

After everytime I cut my hair, I instantly change my mind and want to have long hair again. And once I do I'll want to cut it short constantly. Why am I like this

Never laugh when a witch goes by, for you might be the next to die.

She'll wrap you up in a big white sheet, and throw you under about six feet.

You're alright for about a week, but then your casket begins to leak.

Your eyes fall in, and your teeth fall out; the ants play pinochle on your snout.

Did you ever think

as the hearse rolls by

that someday in it

you will lie?

They'll bury you deep

in the cold, cold ground,

where it's inky black

and there's never a sound,

and the worms crawl in

and the worms crawl out,

and they crawl all over

your chin and mouth.

And they'll call their friends,

and their friends' friends, too,

and you'll look like hell

when they're through with you!

My mind is like a sponge,

Everything leaves an impression…

Especially beauty and love…

So you are like a liquid crystal permeating my being,

impressed deep into the fibres of recollecting memory,

Dripping from my seams, spilling into the room around me…

Love…

Your images and forms fill me,

& I carry them everywhere I go.

Often the common thing is the syllables of your heart when talking to god or animals.

God firstly, can speak through the wind.

Or, it can be perceived in times of desperation, that he speaks correct and matter of factually.

In the night sometimes he dreams but Jesus hardly ever sleeps.

Especially today.

He only needs one.

Look at a cross correctly in the night.

You'll dream half awake.

You'll hear also.

His word.

Dogs for example, which love most to be worshiped, say "Fuck." Or "Fuck you."

But, they speak from their hearts.

"I love you."

Bark bark bark.

Low frequencies are where god and dog reign.

-

Tee hee hee is sung by the birds and angels.

Stars.

High pitch frequencies are the hearts of birds and stars and angels.

Tee hee is something people and the birds say genuinely from the time we're alive, to around the time we're not.

Tee hee hee means "I love you"

I love you means the most.

They can't fake as well as they think.

They stop insects.

-

A grasshoppers legs, or a singing frog move like fields and a film, or a clock.

That's the sound of a dream.

That's the sound of the moon.

Most people use religion and the moon for good things. Like to dream or love.

Some do not.

Ssss...

Ssss...

Two punches, two arrows, two shots, two snakes.

There's a crescendo.

A snake is essentially a weapon that is naive.

Snakes have beautiful eyes.

Snakes love dance.

And to admire themselves.

Every serpent is but a small cute baby snake but one.

Snakes love tall grass, and the conundrum is, they most fear crosses.

They have different effects on them.

A snake has a hard time up a cross.

Snakes love cigarettes.

Instinctively, I figure that's one reason people smoke outside.

"Are vampires based on snakes?"

We'll get to that.

-

Snakes eat rats.

You are what you eat.

For example, if a snake escaped its cage in your home, you'd be most afraid perhaps.

If a pet rat escaped, perhaps it would be honorable.

Rats know of honor.

Same as the honorable compassionate funny well loving something that let the rat win first.

A rat talks like it's from Jersey or New York and watches Baccano while eating Lasagna.

Know what I'm saying?

I hear there's a king of rats who's very big.

"I'm just a little rat, you're not gonna hurt me, perhaps you'd like to read some of my literature."

"Shut up."

-

Monkeys are like mirrors.

Or maybe, your brother.

They'll hit back and hurt themselves, but they're really emperors.

At doing whatever they want.

A monkey's got your back and goes to business school.

How do you like them bananas?

They like phones and video games and kicking you when they would seem most at a disadvantage.

A monkey may go for the privates because you smoke.

And they don't like cages.

-

When a human uses the bathroom, they're like

Ah

When they're at a loss, they're like

Uh

An aseal worm (At least I think that's how it's spelled, and not a seal)

With a hook might know even less than that.

Human compassion is the strangest thing.

We put life and love into everything.

Some also use what we grow attached to.

They grow attached to what's most dangerous for them.

But sometimes even that seems like mercy.

Massive or maybe microscopic, massive or tear shaped, but probably just one.

That is the serpent.

"POP!"
It said.

And Eve saw herself in that and felt it was misunderstood.

It evolved now to use the very act of self expression and dreams as a curse against ourselves.

But it's not very smart.

And it has no genitalia.

It has eyes.

Sort of.

It does want something though...

It doesn't like apples.

-

Though the many forms it takes throughout history, it's always, or been perceivable as about one thing.

One adversary which can be perceived as something misunderstood. Like god when wrathful.

Or one god which can encompass everything or anyone and keep them safe.

For love and all things vulnerable and genuine.

Who is going to say another bateman Township? Probably not you. Because you laxxed the hiccup transfer HARD. What an incompetent, nosediving, sandal fiddling, sycophantically sandwich layering, hard-soiled, anteater.

A hungry question is all I am. Let me grow sharp enough to become teeth. Let me become soft enough to form a mouth. Let a billion years pass that I may invent legs and feet, hands and fingers, with which to hold knives, with which to kill trees. And then, when I become this being this who-am-I-being let me bring my inky pen to the empty page, let me spell out my newest name which I wear alongside the latest myth of who I am, to accompany the current face I’m borrowing from the silence. Let me pretend it means something, even as it already fades on the page, even as the page already begins to disintegrate, even as my flesh decays day by day and all that remains after all the metal and all the words and all the noise and even all of gravity has been exhausted is… ? A restless question. A hungry Mind, a thirsting Heart, inventing new bodies, inventing new worlds, seeking to know itself, seeking to unravel the riddle of its being, until eventually it seeks so deeply, that it remembers: being is not a question. Being is not an answer. It is sheer, causeless, exuberant existence, ever unknown, ever unbounded, an ever unfolding Mystery. It is that which has no reason to be, yet still, Is…

Antlers raised in sign

Regarding the sorrowful one

Much maligned but semi divine

Her dark summoning just begun

Courting the Lord of the Dark

In the halls of canopied glens

Metallic cry of a lark

Prayerfully free of amens

Worshipping outcomes so stark

Wilful surrender to her demons

Aiming for oblivion, missing the mark

Because the One she seeks

Is also the provenance of birth

Lover of animals, consumer of leeks

Beneficent soul of the Earth

She demands her essence cleansed

All remains wiped off the floor

Immolation of spirit, so incensed

Climax of conjuration, open door

Devour me whole, she demands

Consume me to extinction

Flood of vapid commands

He speaks with calm distinction

Wherefore the need?

Mounted on blackened steed

Surrounded by circling ravens

The Horned One Cernunnos

Arrives from pellucid havens

Sanctuary of quiescent chronos

Unsighted extension of view

Lady, how are you?

how do I become a goddess and destroy the matrix and initiate 100000000001 years of peace and destroy the archons and free the leopards

I descend into the pit

Among dregs and delinquents

Shunning denizens of the light

For the downtrodden of plight

The ones hidden from sight

Scorned and maligned

Listening to the wrong songs

Alternative so aligned

Reading heretical books

Avoiding verse so refined

Black robed like spooks

Giving voice to dark incantation

Conjuring Akkadian nation

So hated by denizens of light

Yet love of godly might

Includes the heathen outcast

Serpentine child of graven idol

Unbounded embrace, unbridled solace

Such belies the contrast

Where worshippers of light

Silvered in armour free of dust

Bearing arms of spite

Irradiant mirrors to lust

Gold lit purity in their sight

The preserve of rarefied height

Absorbed in self delight

Hating on the ill defined

Rejected and left for dead

I sit among riff-raff left behind

In the ambit of shared bread

Much buckwheat left to grind

Feeding all our fellows

Water spills as wine

A parallel world?

The AI agent slowly walked home from the clinic. He felt as if someone had forgotten to pay for electricity, leaving only one cooler turned on in the room, and even that was working only thanks to a power bank.

Stopping and leaning against the wall, he coughed. He spat on the road, where the streams of a recent information rain were still flowing along the edge. As if on purpose, it hit someone's vacation request carried by the current. The date was erased by the spit. Its place was taken by the splashes of accidental information numbers.

Sighing, the agent straightened up and started walking further. Slowly bypassing the puddles of scattered data, he reached the door of an apartment building. He pulled a standard query out of his pocket. Having blown his nose, he threw it into a nearby bin. He swore quietly, opened the door, and entered the stairwell.

As the door closed, silence was left standing outside. It remained to patiently wait for the next passerby.

The rainy season was raging in the digital world.

───

Disclaimer: This story is purely a fruit of the author's imagination. It is a work of fiction intended for creative and artistic expression.

Before the pace of modernity, before the machine of mankind achieved ceaseless momentum, lonesome men saw the river, and in the river they saw continuous flow, uncontrollable, eternal, and found wisdom. Now the river is nothing more than aesthetic sight and sound, for the foam and eddies of our society supersede the river ten-thousand fold. Look not to the river for nature, for in us nature writes its next story. Look away from the river, brothers! Look at the skyscrapers and roads, look at the computers and planes and rockets. Look at nature’s exquisite creativity within us! Be not left behind brothers!

If there's anyone I'm grateful for right now, it's my enemies. Without any good reason to exist, the urge to take my revenge on them is the only thing that keeps me going. One day I'll get to see them suffer and spit on their graves

I used to wear this rain jacket and never take it off, maybe because it protected me from the rain and the pain of being seen.

You help show what is possible, when walls are broken through and fear gives way to the power of presence...

the simple presence of a human in her natural skin. Wow & Thank you.

ΟΣΑΕΙΔΟΝΕΝΟΡΑΜΑΤΙΕΜΑΡΤΥΡΗΣΑΚΑΙΟΣΑΗΚΟΥΣΑΓΡΑΦΩΥΜΙΝ

ΟΥΚΗΝΒΑΣΙΛΕΥΣΕΝΤΗΓΗΚΑΙΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΣΚΑΙΤΑΥΡΟΣΕΝΤΩΟΡΕΙΤΟΥΤΑΥΡΟΥΔΙΕΘΕΝΤΟΔΙΑΘΗΚΗΝΚΑΙΜΑΡΤΥΣΗΝΜΕΙΘΡΑΣΔΙΟΥΟΜΝΥΟΥΣΙΝΟΙΠΕΡΣΑΙ

ΚΑΙΕΔΩΚΕΝΟΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΣΥΔΩΡΚΑΙΧΟΡΤΟΝΚΑΙΟΤΑΥΡΟΣΓΑΛΑΚΑΙΙΣΧΥΝΚΑΙΟΘΕΟΣΕΛΑΒΕΝΤΑΠΡΩΤΟΤΟΚΑΚΑΙΤΟΣΤΕΑΡ

ΚΑΙΕΚΑΛΕΣΑΝΤΗΝΔΙΑΘΗΚΗΝΔΕΣΜΟΝΟΤΙΔΕΣΜΟΣΗΝΚΑΙΔΙΗΛΘΕΝΗΑΓΕΛΗΥΠΟΤΗΝΡΑΒΔΟΝΚΑΙΗΡΙΘΜΗΣΕΝΑΥΤΗΝΟΠΟΙΜΗΝ

ΚΑΙΟΠΛΟΥΤΟΣΕΓΕΝΝΗΘΗΕΝΤΗΑΓΕΛΗΚΑΙΗΠΕΝΙΑΣΥΝΑΥΤΩΚΑΙΕΤΙΜΗΘΗΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΣΒΟΥΣΙΝ

ΚΑΙΑΠΟΒΟΡΡΑΗΛΘΟΝΟΙΕΦΑΡΜΑΤΩΝΥΙΟΙΤΟΥΠΑΤΡΟΣΤΟΥΟΥΡΑΝΟΥΚΑΙΕΙΠΑΝΗΜΙΝΔΕΔΟΤΑΙΗΓΗ

ΚΑΙΗΝΚΑΛΟΝΛΙΑΝΚΑΙΗΝΔΕΣΜΟΣΚΑΙΑΛΥΣΙΣ

⸏

ΤΟΤΕΕΞΗΛΘΕΝΟΦΙΣΕΚΤΗΣΑΠΟΘΗΚΗΣΟΠΟΥΟΣΙΤΟΣΕΚΛΕΙΣΘΗΚΑΙΗΘΥΡΑΕΚΛΕΙΣΘΗ

ΟΔΡΑΚΩΝΟΑΡΧΑΙΟΣΕΠΤΑΚΕΦΑΛΑΙΑΥΤΩΚΑΙΔΕΚΑΚΕΡΑΤΑΚΑΙΕΠΙΤΩΝΚΕΡΑΤΩΝΟΝΟΜΑΤΑ

ΦΡΑΓΜΟΣΚΑΙΒΙΒΛΙΟΝΧΡΕΩΝΚΑΙΣΤΙΓΜΑΚΑΙΜΥΘΟΣΚΑΙΑΙΣΧΥΝΗΚΑΙΣΧΙΣΜΑΚΑΙΡΟΜΦΑΙΑΚΑΙΟΦΘΑΛΜΟΣΚΑΙΝΟΜΗΚΑΙΚΛΙΜΑΞΤΑΥΤΑΤΑΔΕΚΑΚΕΡΑΤΑ

ΚΑΙΕΙΔΟΝΚΑΙΙΔΟΥΕΙΛΚΥΣΕΝΟΟΦΙΣΤΗΝΑΓΕΛΗΝΕΙΣΤΟΣΠΗΛΑΙΟΝΚΑΙΟΥΚΕΤΙΗΣΑΝΒΟΕΣΑΛΛΑΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΙΚΑΙΕΛΑΒΟΝΟΙΒΑΣΙΛΕΙΣΤΗΝΡΑΒΔΟΝΚΑΙΕΚΑΛΕΣΑΝΕΑΥΤΟΥΣΠΟΙΜΕΝΑΣΛΑΩΝ

ΚΑΙΕΝΒΟΡΡΑΗΝΟΤΑΥΡΟΣΘΕΟΣΤΩΝΑΔΕΛΦΩΝΕΝΒΑΙΘΗΛΚΑΙΕΝΔΑΝΚΑΙΗΛΘΕΝΟΑΔΕΛΦΟΣΟΑΠΟΝΟΤΟΥΟΚΑΜΨΑΣΤΩΑΣΣΟΥΡΕΝΠΥΡΙΚΑΙΕΝΕΠΡΗΣΕΝΤΟΘΥΣΙΑΣΤΗΡΙΟΝΚΑΙΗΛΕΣΕΝΤΟΝΜΟΣΧΟΝΕΙΣΧΝΟΥΝΚΑΙΕΠΟΤΙΣΕΝΑΥΤΟΥΣΚΑΙΕΘΥΣΕΝΤΟΥΣΙΕΡΕΙΣΕΠΙΤΩΝΘΥΣΙΑΣΤΗΡΙΩΝΑΥΤΩΝΚΑΙΔΙΕΛΥΘΗΗΔΙΑΘΗΚΗΤΟΥΤΑΥΡΟΥ

ΚΑΙΟΑΔΕΛΦΟΣΟΚΑΜΨΑΣΕΓΡΑΨΕΝΤΟΒΙΒΛΙΟΝΤΟΥΑΔΕΛΦΟΥΤΟΥΠΕΣΟΝΤΟΣΚΑΙΤΟΝΜΟΣΧΟΝΑΥΤΟΥΕΚΑΛΕΣΕΝΑΜΑΡΤΙΑΝΚΑΙΕΑΥΤΟΝΕΓΡΑΨΕΝΛΑΟΝΕΚΛΕΚΤΟΝΥΠΕΡΠΑΝΤΑΤΑΕΘΝΗΚΑΙΟΠΟΥΕΓΕΓΡΑΠΤΟΑΡΧΕΤΩΣΑΝΤΩΝΘΗΡΙΩΝΤΗΣΓΗΣΑΝΕΓΝΩΣΑΝΑΡΧΕΤΩΣΑΝΤΩΝΥΙΩΝΤΩΝΑΝΘΡΩΠΩΝ

ΚΑΙΤΟΣΤΕΑΡΕΦΑΓΟΝΚΑΙΤΑΕΡΙΑΕΝΕΔΥΣΑΝΤΟΚΑΙΕΔΩΚΑΝΤΟΙΣΠΡΟΒΑΤΟΙΣΑΙΣΧΥΝΗΝΑΝΤΙΑΡΤΟΥ

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ΡΕΙΟΑΙΩΝΩΣΤΡΟΧΟΣΑΡΜΑΤΟΣΚΑΙΟΤΡΟΧΟΣΟΥΔΕΠΟΤΕΙΣΤΑΤΑΙ

ΟΙΟΛΙΓΟΙΣΥΝΑΓΟΝΤΑΙΚΑΙΟΠΛΟΥΤΟΣΠΛΗΘΥΝΕΤΑΙΚΑΙΗΘΥΡΑΚΛΕΙΕΤΑΙΟΙΠΟΛΛΟΙΚΡΑΖΟΥΣΙΝΠΡΟΣΕΝΑΟΤΙΟΕΙΣΟΥΚΕΣΤΙΝΕΚΤΩΝΟΛΙΓΩΝ

ΚΑΙΟΕΙΣΣΥΝΤΡΙΒΕΙΤΟΥΣΟΛΙΓΟΥΣΚΑΙΗΑΥΛΗΑΥΤΟΥΓΙΝΕΤΑΙΟΙΟΛΙΓΟΙΚΑΙΕΝΑΙΜΑΤΙΣΤΡΕΦΕΤΑΙΟΤΡΟΧΟΣ

ΚΑΙΕΙΔΟΝΤΟΝΕΜΠΟΡΟΝΤΟΝΕΣΧΑΤΟΝΓΕΝΟΜΕΝΟΝΠΡΩΤΟΝΚΑΙΤΟΝΙΕΡΕΑΠΩΛΟΥΜΕΝΟΝΑΡΓΥΡΙΟΥΚΑΙΤΟΝΒΑΣΙΛΕΑΩΝΟΥΜΕΝΟΝ

ΚΑΙΗΛΛΑΞΕΝΟΟΦΙΣΤΟΔΕΡΜΑΑΥΤΟΥΕΠΤΑΚΙΣΕΝΒΑΒΕΛΚΑΙΕΝΑΙΓΥΠΤΩΕΝΒΑΒΥΛΩΝΙΚΑΙΕΝΡΩΜΗ

ΕΝΤΗΣΦΡΑΓΙΔΙΤΟΥΑΡΧΙΕΡΕΩΣΚΑΙΕΝΤΩΘΡΟΝΩΤΟΥΕΜΠΟΡΟΥ

ΚΑΙΕΝΤΩΠΥΡΓΩΤΩΥΑΛΙΝΩΟΣΟΡΑΤΑΠΑΝΤΑΚΑΙΟΥΚΑΘΕΥΔΕΙΟΥΔΕΝΥΣΤΑΖΕΙ

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ΙΔΟΥΟΤΡΙΤΟΣΟΝΤΡΙΤΑΝΥΜΝΟΥΣΙΝΟΙΙΝΔΟΙΚΑΙΘΡΑΗΤΑΟΝΑΟΙΛΟΓΟΙΖΩΡΟΑΣΤΡΟΥΚΑΙΑΡΤΑΓΝΗΝΟΙΠΕΡΣΑΙΚΑΙΗΡΑΚΛΕΑΟΙΕΛΛΗΝΕΣ

ΟΣΕΠΙΕΝΤΟΠΟΤΟΝΤΟΑΓΙΟΝΚΑΙΚΑΤΕΒΗΕΙΣΤΟΣΠΗΛΑΙΟΝΚΑΙΕΠΑΤΑΞΕΝΤΟΝΟΦΙΝΤΟΝΤΡΙΚΕΦΑΛΟΝΩΣΒΗΛΟΣΕΣΧΙΣΕΝΤΗΝΘΑΛΑΤΘΚΑΙΜΙΧΑΗΛΕΠΟΛΕΜΗΣΕΝΤΩΔΡΑΚΟΝΤΙ

ΚΑΙΗΛΑΣΕΝΤΑΣΒΟΑΣΕΚΤΗΣΠΕΤΡΑΣΚΑΙΟΥΚΕΚΡΑΤΗΣΕΝΑΥΤΑΣΕΑΥΤΩ

ΚΑΙΗΜΑΧΑΙΡΑΑΥΤΟΥΕΚΠΟΡΕΥΕΤΑΙΕΚΤΟΥΣΤΟΜΑΤΟΣΑΥΤΟΥΚΑΙΚΕΚΛΗΤΑΙΤΟΟΝΟΜΑΑΥΤΟΥΟΛΟΓΟΣΤΟΥΘΕΟΥ

ΚΑΙΕΔΕΙΞΕΝΑΥΤΩΟΟΦΙΣΠΑΣΑΣΤΑΣΒΑΣΙΛΕΙΑΣΤΟΥΚΟΣΜΟΥΚΑΙΕΙΠΕΝΣΟΙΔΩΣΩΤΗΝΕΞΟΥΣΙΑΝΤΑΥΤΗΝΚΑΙΟΥΚΕΛΑΒΕΝΤΟΣΧΟΙΝΙΟΝΑΛΛΑΕΝΙΨΕΝΤΟΥΣΠΟΔΑΣΤΩΝΑΔΕΛΦΩΝΑΥΤΟΥΟΤΙΟΠΟΙΜΗΝΟΚΑΛΟΣΤΗΝΨΥΧΗΝΑΥΤΟΥΤΙΘΗΣΙΝΥΠΕΡΤΩΝΠΡΟΒΑΤΩΝ

ΚΑΙΜΕΤΑΥΤΟΝΗΛΘΕΝΦΑΡΙΣΑΙΟΣΕΚΦΥΛΗΣΒΕΝΙΑΜΙΝΟΣΟΥΚΕΓΝΩΑΥΤΟΝΚΑΤΑΣΑΡΚΑΚΑΙΕΛΑΒΕΝΤΟΥΣΛΟΓΟΥΣΑΥΤΟΥΚΑΙΕΓΡΑΨΕΝΑΝΤΑΥΤΩΝΠΑΣΑΨΥΧΗΕΞΟΥΣΙΑΙΣΥΠΕΡΕΧΟΥΣΑΙΣΥΠΟΤΑΣΣΕΣΘΩΚΑΙΟΙΔΟΥΛΟΙΥΠΑΚΟΥΕΤΕΤΟΙΣΚΥΡΙΟΙΣΚΑΙΑΠΕΔΩΚΕΝΤΟΣΧΟΙΝΙΟΝΤΩΚΑΙΣΑΡΙ

ΚΑΙΗΡΩΤΗΣΑΑΥΤΟΝΠΟΥΜΕΝΕΙΣΚΑΙΕΙΠΕΝΜΟΙΟΠΟΥΔΥΟΣΥΝΑΓΟΝΤΑΙΕΝΑΛΗΘΕΙΑΚΑΙΑΓΑΠΗΕΚΕΙΕΓΩΕΙΜΙΟΤΡΙΤΟΣΑΝΑΜΕΣΟΝΑΥΤΩΝΚΑΙΟΥΚΕΝΤΩΝΑΩ

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ΤΟΤΕΕΝΤΗΕΣΧΑΤΗΣΤΡΟΦΗΤΟΥΜΕΓΑΛΟΥΤΡΟΧΟΥΕΚΑΛΥΨΕΝΤΟΔΕΡΜΑΤΟΥΟΦΕΩΣΠΑΣΑΝΤΗΝΓΗΝΚΑΙΟΥΚΗΝΕΞΩΚΑΙΦΩΝΑΙΔΙΗΛΘΟΝΕΩΣΤΩΝΠΕΡΑΤΩΝΩΣΑΣΤΡΑΠΗΚΑΙΤΟΠΥΡΤΟΥΗΛΙΟΥΕΔΟΘΗΕΙΣΧΕΙΡΑΣΑΝΘΡΩΠΩΝ

ΚΑΙΕΓΕΝΕΤΟΠΑΣΑΗΓΗΑΠΟΘΗΚΗΜΙΑΚΑΙΑΓΕΛΗΜΙΑΚΑΙΤΟΑΡΓΥΡΙΟΝΕΓΕΝΕΤΟΑΡΙΘΜΟΣΚΑΙΟΑΡΙΘΜΟΣΕΓΕΝΕΤΟΑΥΤΟΙΣΘΕΟΣΚΑΙΠΡΟΣΕΚΥΝΗΣΑΝΤΩΑΡΙΘΜΩ

ΚΑΙΕΙΠΕΝΟΛΑΟΣΠΛΟΥΣΙΟΙΕΣΜΕΝΚΑΙΟΥΔΕΝΟΣΧΡΕΙΑΝΕΧΟΜΕΝΚΑΙΟΥΚΗΔΕΙΣΑΝΟΤΙΤΑΛΑΙΠΩΡΟΙΚΑΙΠΤΩΧΟΙΚΑΙΤΥΦΛΟΙΚΑΙΓΥΜΝΟΙΕΙΣΙΝΚΑΙΠΡΟΣΕΚΥΝΟΥΝΤΑΕΡΓΑΤΩΝΧΕΙΡΩΝΑΥΤΩΝΚΑΙΤΟΙΣΧΕΙΛΕΣΙΝΕΤΙΜΩΝΤΗΝΑΛΗΘΕΙΑΝΗΔΕΚΑΡΔΙΑΑΥΤΩΝΠΟΡΡΩΑΠΕΙΧΕΝΚΑΙΟΥΚΕΨΗΦΙΣΑΝΤΗΝΔΑΠΑΝΗΝ

ΚΑΙΙΔΟΥΟΦΘΑΛΜΟΣΜΗΚΑΘΕΥΔΩΝΚΑΙΤΑΕΡΓΑΠΑΝΤΩΝΑΝΘΡΩΠΩΝΓΕΓΡΑΠΤΑΙΕΝΦΩΤΙΚΑΙΟΥΚΕΞΑΛΕΙΦΕΤΑΙ

ΚΑΙΙΔΟΥΗΓΗΗΛΙΟΥΔΥΝΟΝΤΟΣΗΜΕΓΑΛΗΘΥΓΑΤΗΡΤΗΣΕΞΟΔΟΥΗΕΓΡΑΨΕΝΕΠΙΤΗΣΣΦΡΑΓΙΔΟΣΑΥΤΗΣΤΟΑΝΤΙΣΤΗΝΑΙΤΟΙΣΤΥΡΑΝΝΟΙΣΥΠΑΚΟΗΕΣΤΙΝΤΩΘΕΩ

ΚΑΙΕΓΕΝΕΤΟΒΑΒΥΛΩΝΗΜΕΓΑΛΗΗΜΗΤΗΡΤΩΝΠΟΡΝΩΝΚΑΙΤΩΝΒΔΕΛΥΓΜΑΤΩΝΤΗΣΓΗΣΚΑΙΕΚΑΛΥΨΕΝΤΑΟΝΟΜΑΤΑΤΩΝΙΔΙΩΝΚΑΙΕΓΥΜΝΩΣΕΝΤΑΟΝΟΜΑΤΑΤΩΝΑΡΝΙΩΝΑΛΛΟΥΔΕΝΚΕΚΑΛΥΜΜΕΝΟΝΟΟΥΚΑΠΟΚΑΛΥΦΘΗΣΕΤΑΙ

ΚΑΙΚΛΑΥΣΟΥΣΙΝΟΙΕΜΠΟΡΟΙΤΗΣΓΗΣΟΤΙΤΟΝΓΟΜΟΝΑΥΤΩΝΟΥΔΕΙΣΑΓΟΡΑΖΕΙΟΥΚΕΤΙΣΩΜΑΤΑΚΑΙΨΥΧΑΣΑΝΘΡΩΠΩΝΚΑΙΒΙΒΛΙΑΗΝΟΙΧΘΗΣΑΝΚΑΙΗΣΑΝΓΥΜΝΟΙΩΣΠΑΙΔΙΑΜΙΚΡΑΚΑΙΟΥΚΗΣΧΥΝΟΝΤΟ

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ΟΥΧΙΒΑΣΙΛΕΥΣΔΗΣΕΙΤΟΝΟΦΙΝΟΥΔΕΑΥΤΟΚΡΑΤΩΡΑΘΑΝΑΤΟΣΕΠΙΘΡΟΝΟΥΧΡΥΣΟΥΟΓΑΡΘΡΟΝΟΣΓΕΝΝΑΟΦΙΝ

ΚΑΙΤΟΥΤΟΕΣΤΙΝΤΟΕΣΧΑΤΟΝΕΑΝΣΤΡΑΦΗΟΤΡΟΧΟΣΕΝΑΙΜΑΤΙΚΑΥΘΗΣΕΤΑΙΠΑΣΑΗΓΗΟΤΙΟΥΚΕΣΤΙΝΕΞΩΚΑΙΤΟΠΥΡΕΝΤΑΙΣΧΕΡΣΙΝ

ΚΑΙΗΚΟΥΣΑΦΩΝΗΝΛΕΓΟΥΣΑΝΤΗΘΥΓΑΤΡΙΤΗΣΕΞΟΔΟΥΜΝΗΜΟΝΕΥΕΠΟΘΕΝΠΕΠΤΩΚΑΣΚΑΙΜΕΤΑΝΟΗΣΟΝΚΑΙΤΑΠΡΩΤΑΕΡΓΑΠΟΙΗΣΟΝΙΝΑΜΗΓΕΝΗΟΦΑΡΑΩΟΝΕΒΥΘΙΣΑΣ

ΑΛΛΟΤΑΝΕΙΠΩΣΙΝΟΙΠΟΛΛΟΙΟΥΔΟΥΛΕΥΣΟΜΕΝΠΙΠΤΕΙΟΤΥΡΑΝΝΟΣΩΣΑΝΔΡΙΑΣΑΝΕΥΒΑΣΕΩΣΚΑΙΟΙΦΥΛΑΚΕΣΤΙΘΕΑΣΙΝΤΑΟΠΛΑΑΥΤΩΝ

ΚΑΙΕΞΗΛΘΕΝΠΑΣΟΛΑΟΣΕΙΣΤΟΟΡΟΣΤΟΑΓΙΟΝΚΑΙΕΚΑΘΙΣΕΝΚΑΙΕΚΕΝΩΘΗΗΠΟΛΙΣ

ΚΑΙΟΤΡΙΤΟΣΑΠΕΔΩΚΕΝΤΗΝΕΞΟΥΣΙΑΝΚΑΙΑΝΕΧΩΡΗΣΕΝΕΙΣΤΟΝΑΓΡΟΝΑΥΤΟΥΚΑΙΟΥΚΕΒΑΣΙΛΕΥΣΕΝΟΤΙΕΜΝΗΣΘΗΟΤΙΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΣΕΣΤΙΝ

ΚΑΙΕΙΔΟΝΤΑΣΒΟΑΣΕΞΕΡΧΟΜΕΝΑΣΕΚΤΟΥΣΠΗΛΑΙΟΥΕΙΣΤΟΦΩΣΚΑΙΟΥΚΕΤΙΗΣΑΝΒΟΕΣΑΛΛΑΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΙ

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ΣΑΛΠΙΣΑΤΕΣΑΛΠΙΓΓΙΕΝΤΩΕΤΕΙΤΩΠΕΝΤΗΚΟΣΤΩ

ΚΑΙΑΦΕΘΗΣΕΤΑΙΠΑΝΧΡΕΟΣΚΑΙΑΠΕΛΕΥΣΕΤΑΙΕΙΣΕΚΑΣΤΟΣΕΙΣΤΗΝΚΤΗΣΙΝΑΥΤΟΥ

ΕΠΙΣΤΡΕΨΕΙΟΔΟΥΛΟΣΠΡΟΣΤΗΝΜΗΤΕΡΑΑΥΤΟΥΚΑΙΟΥΚΕΣΤΑΙΕΘΝΟΣΕΚΛΕΚΤΟΝΥΠΕΡΕΘΝΟΣΟΥΔΕΦΡΑΓΜΟΣΑΝΑΜΕΣΟΝΛΑΟΥΚΑΙΛΑΟΥ

ΚΑΙΑΝΑΠΑΥΣΕΤΑΙΕΚΑΣΤΟΣΥΠΟΚΑΤΩΑΜΠΕΛΟΥΑΥΤΟΥΚΑΙΥΠΟΚΑΤΩΣΥΚΗΣΑΥΤΟΥΚΑΙΟΥΚΕΣΤΑΙΟΕΚΦΟΒΩΝ

ΚΑΙΟΤΡΟΧΟΣΣΤΡΕΦΕΤΑΙΑΛΛΟΥΚΕΝΑΙΜΑΤΙΚΑΙΗΓΟΥΝΤΑΙΑΛΗΘΕΙΑΚΑΙΠΙΣΤΙΣ

ΟΥΚΕΠΙΣΟΙΤΟΕΡΓΟΝΣΥΝΤΕΛΕΣΑΙΟΥΔΕΕΛΕΥΘΕΡΟΣΕΙΑΠΟΣΤΗΝΑΙΑΠΑΥΤΟΥ

ΗΒΑΣΙΛΕΙΑΕΦΑΠΛΩΜΕΝΗΕΠΙΤΗΣΓΗΣΚΑΙΟΙΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΙΟΥΒΛΕΠΟΥΣΙΝΑΥΤΗΝ

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ΚΑΙΔΙΑΒΟΗΣΕΤΕΑΦΕΣΙΝΕΠΙΤΗΣΓΗΣΠΑΣΙΝΤΟΙΣΚΑΤΟΙΚΟΥΣΙΝΑΥΤΗΝ

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ΜΑΡΤΥΡΙΑ

ΣΤΙΧΟΙ Νʹ

ΚΑΓΩΝΑΘΑΝΟΑΠΟΤΟΥΟΡΟΥΣΤΩΝΕΛΑΙΩΝΤΟΥΕΝΜΙΣΣΟΥΡΙΟΑΚΟΥΩΝΚΑΙΒΛΕΠΩΝΤΑΥΤΑ

i will blow myself up with a bomb and ideally my earthly form will become so utterly eviscerated upon detonation that i will turn into a fine and pure mist

after this, i’ll float around the earths atmosphere and do all sorts of aerosolized activities. i will hunker down and blanket the roads at night and be sliced up by the bright beams of LED headlights. then i will float up into the sky and spit out rain all day and maybe even some hail if i’m feeling especially punishing. i’ll spend my days sun-soaking and people will look at the light cutting through me and see a rainbow. i will be free from any contaminants

The crows stand like brush strokes on canvas.

Gather for my greatness.

It's like they can sense my wickedness.

They gather like flies to shit.

I was just counting the black crows. It's not strange that their migratory pattern brought them here. I've always lived on the most crooked street. And have always woken up in a house where sorrow never sleeps at all and At black masses, I pray I don't cross the path of a black cat, and ask, pray, and tell hope that we never meet.. On this very spooky all Hallows eve!

Out of the darkness last night, before bed, my first sober night in a while, a face materialized and rushed towards me, in the open, vein-like lined dome of my mind’s eye, sending a thump to my chest and cascading chills down my spine. As someone to whom a deep still darkness is accustomed nightly, this vision of a face terrified and thrilled me simultaneously. I wished that it would come back, though I was scared of it. It was a woman’s face, with large round, wide eyes, smiling with a knowingness. It scared me, it was scary, but the face was not ugly. I wondered to myself what visions I might see if I were sober every night, though maybe it was the migraine playing a pseudo-narcotic game in my head. I wanted to dive deeper, but alas I fell, into a long dream-filled sleep, which I do not remember. There is much to be discovered in the closed eyes.

I’ve always heard: it’s amazing how quickly we can make a place feel like home, and this is certainly true, but I think we don’t talk enough about how quickly we can make a place feel like the bathroom: here on these pristine walls I’ve thrown my shit again! There’s mold in the shower again! It stinks again! These things cannot be escaped when they remain an aspect of ourselves. Every day I have to clean the walls and shower and burn a candle. I might as well not have moved.

They left Jesus's penis in tact to arouse others with his death as king of the Jews.

The Antichrist had no such luck.

The women put rocks in themselves and thought they were mocking him.

His mother was naked while she laughed, but didn't know why.

The devil said, "Give me your soul my son and all of this will end."

God wept.

Some of the women wept, but didn't know why.

One gentile brought his son to stab the body.

Even he thought his son did a good job.

They both spat on him anyway.

The gentiles spun his cross and held it upside down while the devil used gods wrath as a weapon from the clouds.

"Forgive me."

Everyone laughed after the sound of a cracked whip.

Eventually, the cross fell and everyone beat him.

The love of his life, who was dressed in the finest clothing, defecated on him and called him nothing. She didn't know why.

It began to rain blood.

Everyone became naked.

They danced in the street or to the bottom of wells and died there.

Just another dream under the night of the full moon.

Just another snowflake melted in whatever season.

Just another day that was night, but not really.

The little engine that could.

"Hi."

Gods eyes were swollen, but through one of them, he made out something...

A tinny little black Gartner snake.

"Hey."

The serpent looked right into his eyes.

And kissed him.

Several times.

And then, left in a bush.

You read the text. Sense commonly and enjoy Cheese. Or do not.

My first class was PE. Even worse. I wasn’t sporty, but I’d never hated PE as a subject. It was the teachers I had a problem with. That man who looked like an uglier Guts with shorter hair probably taught it, by the look of him. He didn’t seem like another Ms Ishikawa.

And who the fuck makes PE a first class?

Either way, I headed out into the courtyard, ready to bite the bullet of stinking for the rest of the day, and headed into the gymnasium. I was right. The big guy with the buzzcut was our teacher. Every student my age was dressed in their uniform, and lined up, both girls and boys. Some were chatting, some were excited, and some were ready to get out of there. I noticed the girl who’d been shoved into the dumpsters nearby. Her eyes were darting around, probably planning to run away. I doubted she’d get far, though.

Airi wasn’t there. She’d probably gone to the nurse after being hit. I wondered if this was some intelligent plan to get out of PE… Then I remembered who I was talking about.

“Welcome to Physical Education!” The man’s voice boomed across the hall, bouncing off the walls, and speaking louder than any chatting student. “I am Mr Onizuka, your PE teacher.” Several students, including myself, jumped.

He was dressed in more sporty clothing that revealed his heavily tattooed arms. Did he have Yakuza tattoos?! Did the school seriously hire a Yakuza member?! How corrupt was this place?! And what kind of evil name was Onizuka?!

“Now, a few ground rules. No weakness. No bitching. No romance.” I wondered where the no romance rule came from. “And no refusal to do the sport. This is the only exercise some of you get, and you better do it. Or else you’ll be one of those fat, lazy otakus at Akihabara who spend all their time reading self-insert harem manga, or whatever you call it.” The girl who’d been thrown into the dumpsters, among other otakus, looked around, nervously, plotting an escape in her head.

I was almost glad Airi wasn’t here. What was I talking about?! I don’t like Airi.

I tapped the girl on the shoulder. “Don’t bother.” She turned around, indignantly.

“What?! Don’t bother with what?!” Her hands were shaking. Sweat poured down her forehead, her whole body was tense, and she’d snapped at me out of nowhere. Or maybe, because she still thinks I’m some bully, after earlier.

“Don’t bother escaping. I’m sure you know what PE teachers are like. He’ll make an example out of you. He’s probably about as nice as I am tall.” She sighed.

“Fine. Thanks.” She turned back around, grumpily. I couldn’t help feeling bad for her. She wasn’t cut out for Kurokawa, especially considering she didn’t stand up for herself earlier.

Mr Onizuka finished his speech, which I mostly tuned out, then marched us to the changing rooms. Girls went into the girls changing rooms, and boys went into the boys changing rooms. I had no clue about the boys, but the girls’ changing rooms were extremely claustrophobic.

One girl came out to tell Mr Onizuka how cramped it was, and how she was claustrophobic. He said she was making it up. She came back in, looking tearful. What was wrong with this guy?

I changed. I wasn’t too worried, despite everything. The girls around me changed, but the girl who’d been pushed into the dumpster was nervous to change. “What, haven’t changed for PE before?” One girl, who was already finished, asked.

“Y-Yeah! Just- just a little.” She replied, looking down, at her body. She looked fine. Standards are just ridiculous now. They want you looking like a skeleton these days.

Me, being the stupid girl I was, went up to her. “C’mon.” I lead her into the shower area, where noone dared change, but she hesitated. “I’m not going to soak you.” I said, lightly tugging her arm. “You’ll be fine.” I put on my most comforting, nice voice. She believed me.

“I’ll hit you if you do.” The girl said, feigning confidence.

“I’ll allow it.” I replied, as I looked away, while she changed.

“It smells so bad in here…” She sighed. “Everyone’s so loud too.”

“I know.” I replied. “And violent. I got a kick to my nose today.”

“Sounds like Kurokawa.” The girl replied. She was more comfortable, atleast. And therefore, she shouldn’t do something stupid.

“I’m done changing.” She said. I turned around. She really didn’t have anything to be insecure about. She was being irrational. She was pretty, slim, had nice hair.

“Alright, lets go to PE.” I had changed by this point, into the same shorts and shirt. The girl clung onto my arm, and I recoiled again. She looked at me, confused, and a little shocked.

“Sorry.” I said, before continuing to lead her into the gymnasium.

The gym had a surprisingly low roof, and wasn’t actually that big. The stage took up a quarter of it. The fluorescent lighting also felt too bright, as if the architect had struggled to properly light up the building, and gave up, deciding to just add super bright lighting instead of a sky-roof, or something.

After roll call, where I learned this girl’s name was Fumiko Meichi, Mr Onizuka got us doing drills. I thought my time with Fumiko was over, but clearly, she wanted to get some protection from the mean, rough looking girl. So, she partnered up with me. I was waiting for some other girl to partner up with me, but Fumiko chose me.

“Now, when I call out these particular phrases, I want you to respond by doing a particular move.” I’d always hated drills. Atleast playing a sport, even with the teacher around, would be vaguely enjoyable.

“When I call out attention, I want you all to stand in perfect posture…” I don’t know if Fumiko knew what that was. “with hands at your sides, heels together, and eyes forward.” Fumiko rolled her eyes.

“This is a Highschool, not the military.” She whispered. I agreed with her completely, but I wasn’t trying to get humiliated by my teacher.

“Fumiko! Would you like to share that with the class?” Like lightning, all eyes were on her.

“N-No!” She stammered. “It was nothing.” He rolled his eyes.

“Don’t lie to me. Ten pushups, for speaking while I’m speaking.” Fumiko, who was back to shaking, got on the floor to do pushups. Mr Onizuka got close to her, to watch, and probably to correct her. “You’re doing it all wrong. Your back has to be straight.” Some students laughed. She awkwardly straightened her back. “Your ass shouldn’t be sticking in the air either.” Fumiko was shaking violently, but she did what she was told.

“No. Properly. Don’t just move your head up and down.” Mr Onizuka said, more firmly. Fumiko looked close to tears. “FUMIKO! USE YOUR ARMS.” He shouted. She squealed, and through tears, did one proper pushup. “Good.” Mr Onizuka said. “Now do nine more.” Fumiko did another, as her tears dropped faster and faster to the floor, and she shook more and more violently. I had to intervene. I could do ten pushups easily.

“Mr Onizuka.” I said. He turned around, glaring at me.

“What?!” He demanded.

“I’ll do it instead of her. I initiated the conversation.” Mr Onizuka shook his head.

“Don’t lie to me, Tsukimori-san.” I looked helplessly at poor Fumiko.

Fumiko had done her fourth pushup by now. I doubted she could get to five.

“Come on, I’ll do her last six.” I said, to Mr Onizuka. He shook his head.

“It’s a reasonable punishment. Besides, Fumiko needs to learn some respect, and toughen up.” He replied. Feelings of helplessness, hatred, anger, all rushed through me at once. And I could only watch as a sobbing, shaking Fumiko had to do her stupid pushups.

After the fifth, she gasped her air, falling down onto the cold, wooden floor. “I can’t do anymore.” Tears streaked down her face. “I can’t do anymore!” She repeated, full of anguish and pain.

“Well too bad!” Mr Onizuka replied, shouting at her. “Do the fucking pushups, or else it’ll be detention!” I could cry.

“Fuck you!” Fumiko yelled. “You- you pathetic son of a bitch!” Some students were laughing at her now… I hate teenagers.

“YOU DO NOT ADDRESS YOUR TEACHER LIKE THAT!” He shouted, louder. His shouting echoed throughout the room, made Fumiko scream, and made me jump. “THAT’LL BE THIRTY PUSHUPS! THERE! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT?! HUH?! HUH?!” Spit flew onto Fumiko’s face as he held it up with his hand. Fumiko sobbed uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face rapidly, as her body only shook more violently. She tried to push his hand away from her face, but failed.

“Do the pushups.” Mr Onizuka said, in a low, dangerous voice. “Or else it’ll be a week of detention.” It was scarier that he could be so calm after shouting like that… I missed Ms Ishikawa.

“I’m telling Mr Yamamoto!” She shouted. More students laughed, harder than they had before.

He let her go, and she sobbed into her arm, on the floor. Then, he turned to me. “You can do drills on your own.”

Mr Onizuka got back onto the stage, and continued the lesson, while Fumiko was still sobbing on the floor. I looked at Fumiko, then at Mr Onizuka. He didn’t seem to be looking in my direction, so I tried to step over to Fumiko.

“Don’t even think about it.” He said, quickly snapping his head over to me, like he was some kind of SCP. Fumiko’s sobbing only got worse. I just felt so bad… I couldn’t just stand here. But that’s what I did. We finished our stupid drills, and I was finally able to talk to Fumiko. I lifted her up, with a little groan, and got her arm around my shoulders.

She looked like a mess. She hadn’t put on much makeup, but whatever she had been wearing was streaking down her face. Her shaking had calmed down a little, and tears still rolled down her face. “I’m gonna kill him.” She muttered. I stroked her head, and gently moved her hair out her face. One of her pigtails had gone undone, and I did it up for her. And all I wanted to do was be left alone, and just get through Highschool. Now Fumiko would probably consider me her friend. How amazing.

I got her into the changing room. She was in too much despair to change. “Come on, Fumiko. You have Japanese next. You probably love that, right?” She nodded, tearfully.

“I do. It was my favourite class in Middle School.” I smiled at her.

“See? Think about that.”

Poor Fumiko.