IN ANOTHER LIFE WHEN WE ARE ALL CATS

Drugs through the needle are to be avoided, no one warned me, though, about the dangers of the little vibrating device I am holding in my hand. I was not told that once you get started it is not that easy to stop. Dosification and moderation are key to a healthy, balanced life; getting to know my drinking limit and leveling down the amount of sugar, turned out not to be enough. Laying down on my back as I look out and up to the sky, nothing is more hot and sexy than nature’s landscape. The wind blowing traveling through the swinging trees feels so inviting to get launched onto this free skydiving trip. I forget I’m on my kitchen floor, by the balcony’s glass door, wide open so I can hear the birds. The subtle buzz gets my mood right and wanderlust builds up, girl scout preparing to embark on the voyage up towards pitch high. Hanging on a thin string with my fingertips for as long as I can bare, it is at times difficult to handle whilst my body and mind discuss back and forth whether this is the best I can do to relax or should I rather take a cold bath in the aim to simmer the flickering flame of desire burning inside. Am I as greedy in other aspects of life, I doubt that. Overall invasion of electric shocks and then, one is never enough, neither is two. How many treasures can I find before I am out. Out of power, energy and any conscious thought. I turn into ecstasy-high inanimate flesh, unaware of the boundaries of my body, until I will, eventually, regain my strength again together with my will power to get up on my feet, and with the day. Wondering if everybody feels the same, if we all have this need for attachment through these delightful inner convulsions and extraordinary high voltage charges to our brain. And if so, how come it is not easier to get, how come I need a device to help me get there. In another life, when we are all cats, we might just be able to get casually close to one another, and, ever so gently with the back of our heads touch the shoulder of the ones we prefer and fancy joining in the venture to exploring this free love affair like the hippies said they did in the sixties so dearly romanticised and beloved.

In another life when we are all cats. Short-story from 12 o’clock-tales and after hours thoughts. The book