Does he like my way?
What is my way?
Getting up late and going for a run only when a thunder storm is forecasted?
Having no clear goal except keeping the status quo when it feels like there is a little bit of noise and voice but not too much?
Having sex on the desk once in a while because the bed gets boring?
Cooking spaghetti with a lot of olive oil and all kind of  crunchy supermarket vegetables after having had a circulatory collapse?
Being 26 and imitating politicians or other people after the 8pm news to make my parents laugh?
Staying half an hour more in bed on a Sunday to hear the creepy neighbors talk to each other about what to throw into the garbage and what not?
Eating the cardamom pod that his dad grows on his plantation in India because I feel like I am getting high from it?
Sending embarrassing self-portraits in my new summer dress to an old friend/ex-boyfriend from Chile, encouraged by the third symphony of Henry Górecki that makes me nostalgic?
Feeling respect for the guy that fills up my ink cartridge in this little box where he sits, in a corner of the Leipzig Reudnitz supermarket next to the sausage snack, because he got a sign behind his desk saying : "A genius sits at this spot, and no one notices."


  1. Leonie, otra vez me mataste con esta, esta re buena, podrias hacer tanto con este tema, , al principio no me diste toda la informacion, entonces estaba, toda como que, que mierda quiere decir ella? who is "he". The story is banal but eccentric, powerful but quotodian, basically a very personal account, in where anyone can put in their own things and fill up the spaces. Me encanto. girl bukowski


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