It starts again with a point without size. With silence everywhere, and everything looks like nothing.
¨Your fresh cheek is lovely to touch gently with my fingertips.¨
¨Nonsense, see my wrinkles.¨
The point is growing. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. Eventually it fills everything. It’s like an explosion. When time comes, it implodes, and everything is silent.
¨I can’t see any wrinkles, but turn the other cheek. Yes, it is quite the same. And your mouth makes me think of cherry – when I look at it.”
When the time comes, it starts again with a point. Breathing out and breathing in.
¨You have a vivid imagination, and your view is no more what it used to be.¨
¨But that’s how I experience it, and you are as beautiful as a real Muse, who is living between heaven and earth – as they say. You are my Muse.¨
¨Yes, thank God. Then you are my Museum.”
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