Ich bin das Alpha und das Omega, der Anfang und das Ende, der Erste und der Letzte.

There’s always

a beginning

for such a thing.

Trivial, as the belle blonde of my dreams

is a dream.

I know, it’s not sophisticated stuff I’m telling, but it’s an Erste, I suppose.

When you don’t have nothing special, and you just step

because it’s a one way trajectory.

(like a bullet reaching a zenith kill, whatever that is)

Sacha was a dreamer (and she was blonde).

On that day she only wanted to step:

a mountain, stairs, a Scottish hill – that particular building.

Precisely, only step the mat and ring the bell.

I don’t know how I looked.

I was working late and tired.

She stepped inside and laid on a couch where Myrian used to sleep

(Myrian, a pedigree bitch that holds a few bones in heaven, at the moment).

I imagine I had nothing good to say and I only stared at her.

That was my beginning.

For her it was different.

She was in the middle of a voyage,

wondering through something I cannot explain.

There are people who are born mature

without the going through of seasons and of the sun.

She was such a person –

precarious but acute.

I guess I’m just a bloke.

But she cared for me.

And that was our beginning.

It doesn’t matter much what has happened.

It was an alpha towards an omega.

And that’s what I have to say.

Pretty things are stupid and they scare cultured fellows.

Feels sick admitting the banal casuistic of the affair- but an omega and an alpha are

small things…. just like das Ende.