Groan

...says the cat when nobody will listen. Cause when the change kicks in, you start to realise all these little things you have to give away in order to accept it. Things you haven't really noticed, like the fact that you wash with your left hand, pardon, paw. Like the fact that you think with the left part of your brain. Everyday life is consisted of habits. And good old habits are difficult to break. Or are they?

A sprinkle of nutmeg

The coffee is hot but plain, thought the cat. Just like many things in life. And believing for once that people can work their own magic, the cat added a sprinkle of nutmeg. And the aroma flourished, the taste transformed, the world shook. It wasn't just hot coffee anymore. It was a beloved, everyday habit, made new and special by just a bit of spice.

No...

...said the cat to days of yore. Back then, when she thought that happiness was in the seeds. The seeds, thought the cat now, are just the ugly moments.
Happiness on the other hand, is the whole fruit.
Happiness must have a flesh.

Looniness is a state of mind

The cat was very happy to wear her green wellies again. Saturday morning, rain was falling and she took her purple umbrella and her no longer purple mood to the supermarket. Found some interesting sweeteners there, of the restrained kind. But the evil sun came out the next day like an ominous net. Inside the metro, she looked out of season. Like a mushroom glistening happily between raindrops. The woman in front of her, kept rolling cigarettes, putting them in her cigarette case. The man next to her, was dancing to his own shuffles, a superman wall-papered on his cell phone. The lady in front of him, kept cheking her watch and her mini-pot. Flowers of some sort. The cat with the green wellies looked outside. Through the glass, the metro was storming through in the opposite direction. Did the people in there look normal? Or was it just the double-insulating glass?

09/09/09

A book that is about to be written
Dinner in the autumn air
A dress that fits
A song in Portoguese
Childrens toys up the stairs
The wooden sink
The old carved mirror
The song still plays in Portoguese
A voice that answers the phonecall
A taste acquired during holidays
The dress still fits
The color still makes you happy
Perfume of a rose we didn't need
A walk in the city
Two steps in the light
And the book is about to be written

Justice with foam

The cat drinks her morning coffee with two spoonfulls of milk foam. Justice hangs around there, like the cinnamon that gives color. Last night, there were some cats in Ulthar that must not be killed. Today, there are some questions in here that must not be uttered.
And the coffee, as everything, is elevated to an art project.
Winter kicks in, in a Magritte way.

Creepy Fairytale

The cat that could speak in the button-eyed world knew too much.
The cat in this room looked at the stripy light in her room and decided she was right when thinking that dolls and mirrors have a life of their own.
Now, the doll with the blond hair sits tight on a chair and whispers of days of old.
Easter bunnies and board games.
A hammer out of place.
A fairytale in dusty corners.
All connected.
All wrapped up in a string around her finger
In web-looking words
Just like the old times, just like the new
The stripy light dims, like an air cabin while taking-off.
Taking off to Dreamland.

Meow...

...said the queer looking ginger cat. She was ready to shuffle through her clothes, books and perfumes in search of a new beggining. She had already efficiently covered her bruise with concealer and glitter. And she was certain by now, September was her favorite month.