• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 12
Image by

I spy with my little eye

Those who knew him before he turned into a watching stone, say he liked long drives on the motorway and older women.

Those who knew him before he became a loveless soul, maintain he had always been a hopeless bore.

Those who got to know him as a hopeless bore, assume he never had any friends.

His friends, if they exist, would tell you that the truth is somewhat different, yet quite simple to understand. He became quite old himself and all the women he would have liked were dead, or as good as dead. His lack of flexibility in matters of love lead him to an increasingly contemplative way of life.

Now all you have to know about him, is: he is the talking head of an absurd pyramid.

I know you may be tempted to go and ask him what he's doing there, but let me save you the trouble, my curiosity precedes yours. He'll say: “you tell me about the mountains, I keep dreaming of the sea”. That's all. Oh, the red paint, yes. Guess what: the kids did that.