— Iván Milošević (+41 22 364 13 80)

Frowny

I don't feel what you're talking about.

Must be because I'm older.

How can you be so old and lie so badly.

How can you be not cold enough to still expect a warm answer from me.

Fuck you, Iván.

Frowny

I don't feel what you're talking about.

Must be because I'm older.

How can you be so old and lie so badly.

How can you be not cold enough to still expect a warm answer from me.

Fuck you, Iván.

With or without your knives this time ?

With.

Frowny

Fuck you, Iván.

With or without your knives this time ?

With.

Very touching Min.

I think I might even cry. But it's probably just Dorothy watching Sunset Boulevard.

See. I did touch your heart with my knife.

Frowny

Very touching Min.

I think I might even cry. But it's probably just Dorothy watching Sunset Boulevard.

See. I did touch your heart with my knife.

Don't get excited, my heart has been pierced too many time for me to still fucking care.

I think even by a knitting needle once.

And here i thought i was fucking special.

Want me to kiss your booboo better ?

Frowny

And here i thought i was fucking special.

Want me to kiss your booboo better ?

That's not funny. I could have died.

Wait actually that part is funny.

Was the only thing I had at hand, my wife had just started crochet.

Do you often forget what you do to yourself or that one is just special ?

Frowny

Do you often forget what you do to yourself or that one is just special ?

You have to care to remember.

Like rage, I'm out of any.

But I seem to recall it involved some specific patterns.

Bled on her crochet book. Had to burn it to hide the mess. Shame.

I hung myself yesterday.

I died three times before i could get off the celing

Frowny

I hung myself yesterday.

I died three times before i could get off the celing

Choose another method next time.

I'm going to sleep.

Ok.

Good night, Iván.

Frowny

Choose another method next time.

I'm going to sleep.

Ok.

Good night, Iván.

Don't tell the others I replied to your texts.

I don't when it's them.

I won't.

Sunshine

— Iván Milošević (+41 22 364 13 80) - Page 2 Hxwt

Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel, never ending or beginning, on an ever spinning reel. Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind.

I think The Thomas Crown affair would have been shit without that song.

It's wrong thou. There is an end to every circle and even memories fade away.

The point of a circle is that it has no end and no beginning.

But circles can be broken. There's a whole song about it.

Do you think Vicky should have gone with him at the end?

[/quote]

Sunshine

This was never meant to end well.

Or even begin. If you stick to the idea of a circle.

For the song, are you talking about the one from The Friends of Distinction or the old Christian hymn ?

Because if it's that one the whole point of it is a question. Will or will it not be unbroken. That does not really help our little theories does it.

I'd rather not make theories.

Sometimes I dream of things that that will be, that could be, that might have been.

Sometimes you're there, sometimes you're not.

It does feel pointless. When our lives are so long and yet our options so narrow. They should be endless.

What are you listening to? I only feel you like that when you're listening to music.

Sunshine

I'd like to know more about the times I'm there.

That's the whole point Dorothy, it's just an illusion. Only our bodies are endless.

Right now one of yours.

But is it really you, or just a memory of you.

An entire different person.

Does it make real, if I tell you?

Would rather pretend you don't know?

Can't I be both?

Most of the time I don't feel like her. She seems so innocent, so whole.

But she died, didn't she?

You're the first thing I saw. It was dark, then there was you. You were there. You stay sometimes in what could have been.

Sunshine

It has been a while since we saw you in Budapest.

I guess asking you how you are doing is pointless. Even if I care.

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say Iván.

Is it weird that I miss you, even if I can feel you all the time? I shouldn't be missing you.

You don't have to answer. Of course you don't.

Sunshine

Would you hate me if I did not reply ?

I feel it's so easy sometimes, to just hate someone.

Why do you want an answer you already know Dottie ? Is it because you feel less guilty by asking me instead of feeling my guts in yours ?

Missing me is the best thing you can feel about me.

I feel a lot of things about you. Some of them are good, most of them are not. Not a single one of them is hatred, not even slightly. Not ever.

Why would I hate you Iván? Maybe it would be easier for you, for both of us. But I don't.

I can't. I tried.

I don't think you ever called me Dottie before.

Sunshine

Would you rather I keep calling you Dorothy ?

Hating me is not easier.

I know, I've already tried.

I wish we would start dreaming about someone else. So you wouldn't be stuck with me.

No, I quite like it.

I'm just wondering what it would sound like, in your mouth.

And you with me.

Not all the dreams are bad.

Do you really wish it would stop?

I'm not sure what I would do if it did.

I'm used to it. Used to you.

Sunshine

And I'm sorry about that.

About occupying a part of your mind.

"What is dark within me illumine."

I don't think Milton is right on that one.

I think you're still sinking when you're feeling that part of you that is me.

Do you remember the song? I used to love that song so much. I used to sing it to my baby. I learned later than they can ear music, from the womb. I hope it calmed her down, when we sank. James told me it was a girl. I didn’t know that.

I hope it was painless.

It wasn’t painless for me. But you already know that. Somehow, you were already there.

Having you with me is painful, sometimes. But not like this. Never like this. I wouldn’t give it away for the world. It’s not sinking, it’s barely holding my breath, knowing that the surface is so close I can reach it.

Do you feel it as well. Please Iván, tell me how does it feel when I’m with you.

Sunshine

Why do you insist on giving me ways to hurt you ?

I always thought you were scared of me. It's what I've always felt, after the relief that filled you that day when you first saw me.

Then it was never ever again "dream a little dream of me".

How did we get so dark Dottie ?

Is that what you want me to ask ?

Because I don't know and I'd rather rip off my heart than having an answer for that "we" that is meant to be something else than the cancer on which we both like to feed.

Maybe because despite all of this, I know that you wouldn’t try to hurt me. Even if you could. And you could.

You could ruin me, destroy me. Burn everything to the ground, leave only scorched earth in your wake.

Yet you don’t.

Of course I’m scared of you Iván. I’m scared of the power you hold over me. I’m scared that I don’t care.

Iván, my own personal little tumor, always with me. So deep inside my brain, you never leave. Everywhere yet nowhere.

Iván, how could I not be scared of you when you burn so bright it’s blinding.

It’s not dark, it’s a fucking light show.

Sunshine

If I'm a light to you then snuffing it out will be all much easier.

I've come a long way in the art of removing myself from the lives of others.

You make no exception.

I don't want that power over you that you are giving me credit for.

Don't call me to the light when all I ever wanted was the darkness.

One day the tumor will be gone and you will realise that you are free.

Until then, I'm a sorry for everything, Dorothy.

Are you afraid you would answer if I tried hard enough? Would it be so bad Iván? I know why I’m afraid of you Iván. But why are you so afraid of me?

You pushed me away from the start. Dropped me right into his arms and left.

You didn’t even say a word, yet you were all I could hear. I can still hear you now.

I know that sometimes you drive in the country, in that fancy car of yours, I can smell the lake and the dirt and the cigarette smoke, the leather from the seats and your cologne.

I know when you are going to bed to her, the disgust when you touch her body, I don’t know if you hate her or yourself more.

I can feel the Merlot on your lips, the blood too. Same color. Red. I feel like you are more of a blue.

Maybe you are right. Maybe I’m giving you too much power. Maybe I don’t want to be free.

Do I haunt you as much as you haunt me?

Sunshine

Is that how terrible you feel me ?

Then I was right to push you away into his arms.

Is there ever a good answer with you Iván?

I will not help you hurt yourself.

I’m not him. He is better than me, better than all of us. I would have let you jump.

I have no interest in trying to save you.

Don’t presume to know how I feel you.

How my body feels you as well. The ghost touch of your skin, sometimes I dream about that too. You don’t want to hear that. But maybe you show know. That this is how I feel you as well.

Sunshine

Why do you keep trying to reach me if you're neither interested in saving or hurting me ?

See Dottie I think you are just trying to learn that fire burns.

They told you it does but you did not wanted to believe them. You had to see it for yourself because despite everything you cannot remove the hope from the sonbird's songs even when winter ruins everything.

You wanted to know what I feel, in that small part of me that is you ?

I feel how much you think that you don't deserve any of this, that there's a stain within you that's ready to eclipse the sunshine you try to be. That eventually you will ruin everything because despite immortality you feel fleeting, a breath away from losing yourself.

It's me Dottie, that stain within you. You don't have to go looking for it each day or anywhere else.

So you don't want me to assume how you feel that thing that is us ?

I don't presume anything because I feel it everyday, every second and every cursed breath.

Is the world divided between people trying to hurt you or save you?

The rot was there before you. Before the trunk and the blood and the way you thought about killing me the first time you looked into my eyes. How you thought yourself merciful.

Maybe I was born wicked. Birthed into violence twice.

It’s best indeed, that you abandoned me like a fucking cumbersome package. Left someone else deal with the mess.

I saw it, how we could consume each other. Only ashes left. But I wish you would see the flames, how beautiful they burn, how they warm your skin and shine into your eyes.

Of course, I hope. It’s all we have left.

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