Bali Handmade Clothes

eeeehm

... so I sat still for several hours, sitting with his ear against the wall on my bed. Hardly a degree lighter had announced the return of my neighbors, the stiletto is pointed stöckelten by the staircase. It sounded as if they had first opened her apartment door, as if they were then climbed the stairs and finally they have turned up in my perception of the light to perfect their absurd behavior. In fact, I noticed
all only when the room suddenly - I lay in bed, accidentally opened the eyes - back on the finest darkened, as if the brain just in reverse gear work, if it does not do anyway.
stuck so my ear, like the fly that I had finally beaten after an hour with a book at the wall, as if the talk of the neighbors would be important visit, probably is.
When I look at the wall as it is now, look at, there is no doubt that behind anything, no, that is also behind the wall or from wall only, as space is just before and just like anything outside is.
But my ear was hanging on the wall on the behind and although it was dark, dark is, was and is still too much light outside of me, inside me on the floor, on my street in the city, in this hole, in all the people here, in my Head, as if it will ever dark.
This is not a tragedy, a tragedy is. Does not even exist.
I have your ear pressed against the wall until I talk to the incomprehensible is only my blood running through his head. There were actually only the wall, my ear and my head and when I let myself fall again, I was almost in this low sink already again, stuck thought again with you ear against the wall, then even not on that wall, just something else. If not with my ear, then just with everything that I am.
because nothing is like behind the wall, and only the masonry, so I will not with my ear against the wall, but walled in in walls, dead, not existing in the void behind the wall without my slow his ego.
Space is the only one on the wall and the wall is almost wiped out the outline of the slain with the book fly un I stand in front, with the book in hand, the light in the head, to exist whose only task seems to shadow . make