kagablog

A narrative which disintegrates into aphorisms. A contraction which swells into pure reverie. The lines in the face disappear.

The cool breeze of affection, after the heat of Hell.

Elegant stylisation can often forge false links between people. In Bratislava these false connections practically didn’t exist. Instead there was the glamour and depth of things which were broken or stripped to the bone.

What formed in Bratislava was a unique kind of love- a love which was neither desperate nor overly romantic. A light, fleeting exchange which could grow slowly.

The two laid upon the bed, naked and calm. She said that their meeting was a new experience for her…somehow beyond sexualization. She said that she couldn’t comprehend it. He said that if she didn’t understand it, then it was probably real.

She said she had a series of disastrous romances behind her. Relationships in which she threw everything she had all at once. This love carried with it the blue flame of an enigma. She laid her head on his shoulder.

When he had left Rome a half a year ago he felt that he would die before he could return. Now he understood this premonition, it was because he had turned to ash. He died in Berlin in a fundamental way. It was a difficult shedding of skin.

He was wearing his black leather jacket, shining in the moonlight. In an open field in the Czech countryside he fucked her. Her face lit by a blue-gray moon, her features soft, her eyes glistening.

His throbbing horse-cock plunged into her again and again. They fucked like two wild wolves. While he violently rammed her, he felt a certain sense of serenity. A black dog was running through the wheat field, her breasts heaved in the grey gleam of the moon. This was his way of burning away ghosts.

He preferred lightning which whispered, to insects which roared. That’s why he left Berlin.

On one of his last days there, she asked him to beat her.
He beat her, he whipped her. He cut her with a razor blade.
He ran the razor over her breast, coming slowly to a halt
just before her nipple. She shivered with a thoughtless, vibrant beauty.

He drank her blood.

He beat her mercilessly, so that she would change forever.

Together they went to the old graveyard in Prague. They wandered through the broken and toppled gravestones. At one moment when they turned a corner, all the trees shivered at once, sending a dark veil of leaves twirling to the ground in an instant. He knew then that they had just been blessed by the dead.