You know wat I dream about? The field full of green, stretching far and wide over the hills and watnot. With cows grazing on it, and looking up, the azure glade of crystal color clouded by milk-colored vapor
Equilibrium of the nature, homeostasis of the system. And what I see is an image of the same, painted by a kindergarten kid with a pen. I see outside, and its a crazy painting of the most delirious junkie, canvassing our existence as something alien and intensly painful. Then, looking to the side, to wat matters most, to the tree and there, too, it has been replaced with a stick figure of brown color and a green bush at the top of it
And Im lost in this labyrinth. How do I get to the grocery store? All I encounter is paper, sometimes the paper moves. How can it move? The colors of crayons inhabit this world, suddenly invading from under and now spread far and wide. I live in the alien country now
The aliens, too, now exist in vivid green. They fly right in the sky, or rather, is pinned to it. It is as if everything is literally true now, watever ever said, now has existence in space and on paper. World habitated by paper is a terrible place, unnavigable, unlike any dream. And yet, I have to go to the grocery store, its a pressing matter. Ive got nothing to eat this morning and I need the food now
I cannot wait. An enormous paper bus wont let me cross the road. It seem that there was an accident. Which is absurd, in wat world do I live in? Aliens can exist and buses cant avoid accidents by flying, teleporting, bending all kinda rules. But no, they have to run into the paper car! There have to be paper casualties too! In most reddest of the red the blood is painted, splattered all across the flat image of a now destroyed car. The intensity of such an image instills only fear, for the violence is real, and it is far too real. I have to take an another route
I need my milk, I cant do without it. Thats all I think. The world is weird as it is. Everywhere I look at is lunacy, always some stabbing or some quarrel, some incomprehensible terrorism waged on a society which can do without anything of dat sort. Alien looks above us, next to his saucer, as the most normal thing. Who put him up here? Help me, Im stuck in a kid's imagination and its weirdly advanced and carelessly brutal
I have to go through tight alleys of the blocks. Those are impressive, their lines are perfect, made with a ruler. Perfectly sym
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