Monica B.´s Logbook from oPide 112 118 209 (kurti) - kind of an autobiographical-poetic diary. In the fiction the author Monica B. (B = Borboleta = butterfly) is in an unknown place in space, in a mega-city; but of the millions, no one else is alive except her. Typical for the narrator (as for me) is to feel as different people in different places at different times
I feel it clearly now, that the writing down of all that is happening, had happened and all the incredible things that could happen - or could have happened, but their time has passed - will be in english, a language that spread over the worlds because of its primitiveness and abilities to produce misunderstanding. In my hands - used to the delicate language of german poetry - english will generate even more clumsiness; maybe, my words at last will tell nothing at all; maybe, if there ever should be a reader or a listener, she will be staring at my mistakes - and hopefully laughing.
If there should be any german speaking beings, they would dwell in clusters of fear and suspicions, doing ersatz-communication only when forced, otherwise speaking their empty words to the empty space beside each other.
I decided: if there is a being listening and hungry , she will be listening in english, her listening maybe the same poor quality as my broadcasts.
It is very hard for me, but so i decided.
If You stumble upon my words and mistakes, please send me a message.
There is no time to waste! No, i see no signs of an end coming near. But a situation without a change over a long long time, a standing still, isn´t that an end?