While waiting for the lift that brings me back to the office four floors higher I listen to a machine that sounds like a gigantic heart. I wonder if someone caught a huge whale and the office for „transportel bar systems“ is in reality a secret aquarium where the whale lives alone, heartbroken and watches the people that pass by in front of the window . I’d call the whale Vincent if I once be brave enough to open the door and won’t drown underneath all the water that suddenly floats the whole ground floor and the basement of this building. The whale would look at me and the sound of his heart would get louder and louder. I would ask if I can touch him but the whale would just close its eyes and open them again after five seconds.
„Whale“ I’d say „don’t be sad.“ And I’d tell him about the biggest living thing on earth which is a mushroom that is three times as big as the empire state building. (as i learned yesterday while sitting next to you on a couch in the middle of the night, 34 minutes before we stood on the street and kissed each other in front of a group of turkish boys) „Whale“ I’d say „your heartbeat calms me down.“ „Whale“ I’d say „I wish I could sleep next to you. I wish telling you my fears would make them go away. I wish your heart has the colour of gentian and that you know what gentian is.“
„Whale“ I’d say „I come back tomorrow. I tell you about the park and the hammocks there. I tell you how it feels to hold a hand. I bring you candy and eat it for you. And I tell you about a man who once will only wear white clothes and stand at the beach in Rimini.“
The whale would pretend to sleep till I close the door behind which I’d stand still for another three minutes and just breathe. Breathe in and breathe out. Breathe in and breathe out. The next day the whale would be gone.
He’d taken all my secrets away with him.