In Air It Says Time With Water

1.

Start over. I got out of mental institution and took a train to my hometown. Autumn has come once more. Trees still have their leaves but cold, hard wind has already started to strip them naked. Autumn is the season in which I flourish, autumn is the season in which I am born again year after year after year.

    I space out for couple of hours watching the trees pass by and when I regain my awareness the train is arriving at the station. I tend to space out. A lot.

    It's windy outside and sun is starting to set. I burrow my way through the adverse wind and reach the grocery store where I usually do all my shopping. I pick up some muesli bars, instant coffee and a twelve-pack of beer. A little boy and his mother are in the checkout line before me. The boy is anxiously touching his face mask, breathing fast. "Mommy", he cries. "Why do I have to wear this stupid diaper on my face?"

    "Oh, sweetheart", she replies, smiling warmly. "Because you're ugly and filthy. We all are."

    It starts to rain on my way home, and the rain pummels the trees out of their leaves.

    I return to my apartment. No electricity. A puddle of bills, fliers, newspapers piling up. Incoherent memo notes scattered all over. I wash my pills down with cold beer and go to sleep. In a dream I play with my own shit.

2.