ALLEY THIRST

Here, through the deserted city of Nineveh, a fierce dogfight is creeping along, as if someone had slapped the back of the head or slapped the back of the head; even the locked gates are all snug against squat, dark walls unnoticed. Their glued windows do not let through the mirror tiles of the broken amber-light shards that are about to penetrate. Like angry business sharks, they regularly break the systems of business life, as well as their own, almost tyrannical, greedy rules of the game.

The squandering, seething train station is already wearing away the disgraced silence, while one or two divers slowly emerge from the watery caves of the distance. In the street, a few drunken siheder-jampec-looking people are wandering around, hesitantly clinging to each other; who knows Then they were able to return home from the disco, and while one of them was doing a ritual dance, the fifth was lying in his own share. The crouching patch of shadow, which I wear on my still chubby body as if it were a jacket, looks like a black whiplash.

Although they would venture into the dark, alleyway night just to get home for good, the social milieu of the underworld is restrictive and ominous even on the surface. I try in vain to gather the place of my scattered footprints, like some hard-working shepherd. The world is still like this: it stands on the badly wobbly Kelj Fel Jancsi system, or it will fail! The instinctive attention of the frightened, pitiful beast is what Man cannot deal with, if fear has already been embedded in his instincts, as well as in his cells below me.

I see a bone-dry face in the broken glass of shop windows, and I realize: Will I end up like this in just twenty years?! Or could it be a Dear One who comforts me with his voice and angelic movements and whispers in my ears: "Don't be afraid! Will it be okay?!" - On the corner of the street where I live, there is a terrible stench of manure. I'm careful not to step in faeces!