At the time you were still a part of the slow, black beings of the mountains against the desperately fragile silence of the night. In the horizon a white cloud whispered away the smallest details.

Why did you drag me down to the outermost mountains? In there behind the forest. Nothing should be forgotten. It is about surface.

Something glittered (glittered) between my fingers.

I could not forget what should be forgotten. That we never really become a part of the world.

Why did you drag me down to the outermost mountains? Sentences are an ocean. It was the forests.

There was nothing. In. It was parts of your dreams that fell out between your lips. What shall we do with the violent sky? On a big piece of white paper. I, hesitatingly.