Life itself
Jonas Klinkenberg |
the wierdest thing that happend to me, is still in
motion: i am alive, i am alive, living in a world that
changes me and that can be changed through me, i get
to know emotions, people, situations, ways of expressing
myself, ways of seeing the world, new thoughts, ideas
and dreams, every day. every day i can feel that i am
alive and everyday i change and am changed, within that
there are so many situations like sinking into indian
dance, trying everything in improvistions theatre or
falling into a kiss, but all that is just what live
is about, so my wierdest event is what its all about,
life itself |
Tounge ripper
Tova Gerge |
Writing more than speaking,
I often find some parallell phenomenons occuring in
my every day life. One of the scariest would be the
effect of a short story I came up with on the subway
this summer (the only summer in my life in which I
have been living almost entirely on stolen food, by
the way). With my lazy left hand, I scribbled down
some fragments about a person who cuts her tounge
out with a pair of scissors. Then the train stopped
and I put my notpad back in the bag, leaving the train,
minding the gap.
As I was standing at the platform,
waiting for my friend to come and meet me, a guy approached
me, saying "Have you heard, have you heard?"
I answered no. "Me neither", he replied,
"but have you heard of the man who got sentenced
to death a long time ago for stealing at the market
place and in peoples houses?" I said I hadn't
heard of that neither, and with the slight hunch that
this guy was rather crazy, I moved a step backwards.
"Well", he continued, stepping
closer, "He was sentenced to death and they granted
him one last wish. Do you know what he wished for?
He wanted to see his mother. Do you know why?"
At this time in the conversation, I noticed a symbol
looking almost like a christian cross hanging around
the guy's neck, and I relaxed a little, drawing the
conlusion that I would now have a religious morality
presented to me. I gave the expected "no",
and let him go on. "Well, he wanted to see his
mother, and he asked her if he could kiss her...what
is it called..." The guy had a problem pronouncing
a word that I, after a number of guesses, to my own
horror realised, was the word 'tounge'. As I tried
to handle the small chock, he continued the story,
still stepping closer to me whenever he got the possibilty
(resulting in me stepping away).
"Well, he wanted to kiss her
tounge, and do you know what? He ripped it out. Do
you know why?"
Convinced that he would now rip out
my tounge if I stayed, I shreeked out a distressed
"no, I have to go see my friend now, sorry",
and hurried from the place.
Now, half a-year later, I would so
much like to know why the man sentenced to death ripped
out his mothers tounge. If you have the ending of
his story, please write to me at tova@insidan.se
(just take a good advice, and don't make it happen
as you write it). |
