Korzystając szybciutko z pozwolenia Manty, wklejam tekst po angielsku. Bohaterowie ci sami co zwykle, Jack to mój Kubuś, tyle że zangielszczony. Wszelkie komenarze mile widziane w obu językach.





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The balloon is very big, yellow and soft like a sponge. It revolves slowly, and I am almost motionless inside, as if I was suspended on some sort of invisible peg, untouchable. I’m entangled in thin threads, very much like hair, I can feel them move against my face, they are entwining me like a cocoon, I think I might suffocate, unless they stop. They are the cat’s whiskers, the cat is so big now that she can entangle me whole with her whiskers, and at the same time I’m standing aside, wondering at how big she is. A miracle of atomic mutation, Wally says, and he laughs, the idiot. You’d better help me, thank you very much. He has a drill in his hand, he applies it to the bark of a tree under which we’re standing, we’re in a forest at my grandparents’, in the country, but wait, my grandpa is dead. The drill is whirring, gnarling cadenced, it’s producing a rhythmical, discontinuous

buzz of a cell phone against smooth varnish of the night stand. Suddenly interrupted.

“Haa-lo? Mmm, hey baby… No, of course I didn’t forget… Yeah, because I went to bed late… Pete didn’t leave until well after one a.m. … Mhm…”

Jack didn’t open his eyes, he was just lying there motionless, listening to the voice fade in the distance, the bedroom door close softly.

He stretched in the warm, cozy sheets, turned to the other side, buried his face in the pillow, wanting to plunge into that bizarre dream for a few more minutes – but then his whole body stiffened, because the pillow was completely drenched with his smell. Well, no wonder, after all it’s his pillow, right? And this excitation again, that strange state of continuous tension, his stomach a tight little knot, the hairs on his arms like tiny antennas sensitive to the smallest amount of him in the air, even to a microscopic concentration. He is here even more, when he’s not actually here. It’s as if someone has shot electric current through me then, in That club, some incredulous voltage, and it just stayed there, and now every single cell in my body is polarized on him.

He sat up, taking in the room in one prolonged glance. Strange, strange feeling, like from that dream, as if he was here, in the middle of things, and at the same time somewhere aside, stunned, wondering at everything. As if he couldn’t keep up with what was going on.

My God, I’m here, at his home, in his bed, wondering who the hell calls him at 8 a.m., on Sunday.

Am I still me, for sure?



In the kitchen Emil was sipping coffee, leaning against a cupboard. Noticing a sleepy Jack, he poured another mug, set it on the table, silent. He was wearing stripped trousers Jack had never seen before, and one of his famous tops. This particular specimen, tight and black, had rows of glittery sequins forming the words UNCLEAN LIBERTINE across the chest.

Jack took a sip of the strong hot brew, and he just sat there quietly, taking in the view ― kitchen bathed in intense light of almost summer, blasting in from the window. Freshness, birds singing, peace. Perfection. Emil so distinct, as if someone has permanently set the focus on the tip of his nose. Impeccable, pure, with carefully applied make-up, he glances from above a yellow coffee mug. He felt a strong impulse to walk up to him, to feel him close again, to… But he didn’t move.

Instead he just sat there, playing with the thought that he c o u l d do it. This awareness, on its own, was too much, he couldn’t quite grasp it, he had no room for it.

“ I dreamt of your cat,” he said, in order to make real this light, this moment, Emil and himself. This is just the beginning! From now on it’ll always be him, and me, and coffee. Such mornings, always. “She was as big as a house.”

“A miracle of atomic mutation” Emil showed off his thorough knowledge of the Flying Circus, a slight grin on his lips, and put his mug in the sink.

“That’s what Wally said” Jack coughed, almost choked to death on the coffee. “This is exactly what he said.”

“You’ve managed to tell him your dream already?”

“No. He said that i n my dream, see.”

“Fancy that.” He gave his fingernails a censorious look. The polish was chipped in three places. Gonna have to reapply it today. “So, you’re done drinking? ‘Cause I have to go out in a minute.”

He’s not looking at me, he’s looking at the wall above my head. His face perfectly calm. Make-up still intact, focus still like in a top-shelf illustrated magazine.

But what about the light?

What about this moment, this perfect image?

… You’re going out?

“Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

See this beautiful treasure, this heap of gold and diamonds? Well then quit looking, because it’s not for you! But not to worry, you’ll get this pretty shiny marble instead.

He forced himself to finish the coffee, get his shoes on. Wait till Emil finds his keys, and follow him out of the flat. Wondering where the hell might he be going at 8: 37 a.m., on Sunday.

Streets were deserted at this ungodly hour, and the ride took all of five minutes. In complete silence. And presently they were sitting in the old VW Beetle, motor running, outside Jack’s block of flats. I need to get off now. Not to make scenes, as he put it yesterday. Well, we didn’t talk abut it at all, did we now. It was me who assumed that, since he made love to me and all, then… Such mornings. And coffee. Fucking light, damn it, it shines as if it had nothing better to do. Shines in the rearview mirror. Shines in his hair.

He yanked at the knob, but the door wouldn’t open. Emil leaned over to help him, and enclosed him in a cloud of his smell, brushed a lock of hair against his cheek. Ruthless.

He looked Jack in the face, not drawing back.

“Hey,” he said softly, “Don’t be angry. I made this date earlier on.”

Who with?

“Call me in the evening, Jackie, yes?”



How fresh this air feels, how pleasant, at this hour. How nicely the sun shines, after all. And look at this bush here, how it blossoms, I’d never noticed before.

He opened the door leading to his staircase, said hello to a despised neighbour, feeling the flesh pulsate on his cheek, right where Emil had kissed him goodbye.

Szkoda że nic nie rozumiem :oops: w szkle mam niemiecki