The bee doctor didn’t come this saturday. And he wasn’t there the saturday before. On the other side of the canal, the lilac tree looked as if it had been burnt down, all the little blossoms had fallen off or been dried brown in the sun. Not a single sight of violet. The green in the trees and flowers, the bushes and vines had grown darker and the city had turned to a jungle. The...

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Thursday.  And just like that things went worse again. It’s not like you didn’t think that moment would come – just maybe not so soon. Your favorite song was interrupted by the church bells. 11 AM. Ascension Day.  Today you were going to draw your flatmate. Nothing much to do elsewise. Maybe play a little soccer in the park later. A holiday during a pandemic was even more lame than usually.  When you opened all...

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Another day with hours of drawing, music and listening to audiobooks while drinking several litres of coffee. This morning you got the job you applied for. Today was a good day. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat something, but maybe that would work later.  Your flatmate read you Russian poems while you were drawing carefully and that was very nice.  Of the pearl’s light and agate’s clouds Of the such fairly smoked glass, By slopes...

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   Yesterday you went without crying – almost. Somehow something came back, when you placed your pillows like someone was hugging you, cuddling you. And yes, that was sad and it was lonely, but not the reason why you actually started crying. You remembered that the night gown you had on was a piece of clothing you wore when you last saw her. A piece of clothing she kissed you in. And there you were,...

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Out of some strange instinct you felt like texting the person that made you realize you’re gay. Maybe you needed the sensation of healed wounds. This is what she always made you feel: sympathy and connection stay. Wounds and the inflicted pain vanish. Always. If you let them heal.  As you were talking to her, reminiscing and enjoying her way of being, which was always like a smirk - a sad one from time to...

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Standing in your room, you held your breath. The saltwater of your eyes stinging on your sore nostrils which you wiped uncountable times the last days. Why the wave of pain hit in this exact moment, you can’t quite figure out. Was it that her name was not on the first mentioned people who watched your Instagram story? Could be. Did you scroll through her feed and fed off of her smile and her dorky...

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On saturdays the bee doctor climbed up on the roof of the bike shed, where the bees lived. You loved the term bee doctor, it sounded so much more caring than apiarist. Beekeeper was fine, too. But you found bee doctor nicer. His name was Maxime. The bees swarming around him, he examined every single one of the dozen of trays. Carefully lifting the wood, carefully turning, precisely looking for things you didn’t know and...

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Your mouth still tastes like puke. As if the universe wouldn’t grant you closure. As if it wasn’t enough. As if seeing seagulls and craws everywhere you go wasn’t enough. And just like that you are 14 again. Creating playlists to sing to crying. To lie on your bed and stare at the ceiling to. You fall asleep to the Smiths on your disc man. You forgot how pathetic you could become and somehow this...

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