He takes magnificent care of himself after his wife’s death.
She died of some terrible disease…perhaps cancer, perhaps some other blue illness.
He can’t remember, perhaps he shouldn’t remember or he should…he doesn’t care.
He likes red lights,
he likes blue jeans,
He likes beers, chilled and unforgiving ones.
He likes to be in love with beautiful whores for nights and kiss them away on blasphemous mornings.
He doesn’t like to trap his spirituality in one place for a long time, so he moves…he moves in spirit of finding unexplored expressways.
For many days he has been thinking of getting a cat or a dog and naming him something quirky.
This is one night…he is trying to get into a dream with an eccentric carnival in it, and suddenly with a smash of a rain he spots someone in the corner.
The thing has life…it has a beating…it has more beatings than him.
‘I have come across your banality. what do you want? I can grant you a wish…or I can give you one hell of a pragmatic death.’
‘ I won’t choose…I have been sodomized way too much. You can go and fuck yourself.’
The thing vanishes and he goes to the land of radiant pearls without his wife without his whores or red lights.
There’s a possibility of him being a grand soul because…I like to believe it.
I would rather believe it.