Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

Miniatures

NOT ONLY HUNGER

Here, we immediately step into life. As our insides push outwards, beauty patches and skin creams are laid out and we apply them daily. Some of us immediately begin with the piano music, others dig pits, walk from flower to flower, sticking their noses into their calyxes. With rolling eyes and sidling steps, we call it a day. We just can’t help it. Just then a book cart rattles by and disappears behind the next bend, several birds flee from the cover of treetops, screeching across the sky and disappearing into the distance. We haven’t talked one bit since we arrived, we just shook hands, embraced, timidly looked up at the sun slowly rolling across sky the. As we eat, thousands of flies sit down with us. Feeding them takes us the whole afternoon, and frequently there’s nothing left for us. The best thing then is to go to sleep right away, muffling and distracting our hunger with dreams. Unfortunately, we currently don’t dream—and hunger rumbles in our bodies, scrapes it out until we turn into one hollow sound box. In the evenings, the sun rolls behind the hill. A chilly wind is picks up. We huddle together and listen our hunger, our shallow breath wafting across our empty shell, und sometimes the chant of a returning bird joins the mix.

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