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  • The mystery in your eyes

    //’Tree trunk, that’s a funny sounding word! Tree trunk, tree trunk. It kind of sounds like someone walking home drunk from a party with a broken off heel.’

    /’Ha, ha!’

    //’I like the word - hoover, too. It is actually just a brand name. Imagine that! A brand so common with people, it turns into it’s own word.’

    /’Like, google, I guess.’

    //’Yeah, only with hoover, people actually use the verb - hoovering, to say vacuuming. I remember my mother, English teacher she was, of course, always reminding me to say vacuum, not hoover. As if I gave a rat’s ass. You can come and J. Edgar Hoover my floor. Listen, If you pronounce both the words slowly, like this - hoooovvvvvering, vvvaaacuuuuming, they do sound like the actual thing, no? Ha, ha. Anyway, fuck! Why am I talking about this in such detail?!’

    /’How much longer do we have to go now?’

    //’I think like two more hours, or so. Really need to pee, damn it and I think you need a drink. Come on, entertain me babe!’

    /’You must be reading my mind.’

    //’Oh, that’s for sure! Pah! I can read you like a bloody book. And not like Kafka, Rousseau, or Nietzsche, nooo, more like one of those cheap romantic novels, you find at train stations. The cover, with a shiny chested guy on it that is riding his lady love into a sunset, for some sweet and sweaty badonka-donking.’

    /’That is why you love me, right? Well, you will remain a mystery to me forever, I can tell you that!’

    //She started singing: ‘There is mystery in your eyes, la, la, laah…Ooh ooooh!’


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