The Hoarder
Tina works for people who live in houses of which they are no longer master and therefore ask for help. It’s not that easy, because the collectors then hoarder-ridden need to apply. Until then human help can be arranged with passion for needy human being. The numerous applications of the Hoarder Realities will go to the TV-Station, where a team of editors reduce in a preselection the applicants of Hoarder-Realities to 3. To be a Hoarder is not a niche any more in society. The degree of how seriously infected varies by category: “On the soaring seas, everything twisted upside down – I couldn’t do anything about it. I’m only human. The disaster was just too overwhelming.” Another variation; the houses of the oppressed don’t want to give away anything, they like being crammed with stuff, with things up to the ceiling: “The House has outgrown me; I lost control – that was all so insidious.” All my house, as a master of things needs, is even more of all possible stuff”.

Tina knows. She has helped so many people to get rid of everything that had been collected, stored in a dammed house. Many of these people were cracked by life. Over the years, in which she had been put to the side of the curved, Tina developed much insight and compassion. With her psychology studies she laid the Foundation to see behind the things. At that time in Marburg, Germany, as the circumstances did not allow her to finish studying, she dropped out after 4 intense semesters- devoted to the understanding of Systemic Psychology. She wanted to help people in a very early stage and get to understand what is behind all of this, what we call life.
One Hoarder TINA remembers very well. There were worlds that had to be pushed away so the poor little squirrel, the godfather of the House was able to say goodbye.Throw it all out! Everything!
Surely, she can’t handle this alone. She found allies of the same spirit. Human Beings who have a sensitive awareness and a guarded mindfulness, that is the order, otherwise it simply doesn’t work helping people in need. This Hoarder didn’t let himself be disentangled at once. Only very cunningly was he freed, because the tracks had been laid out by the individual actors in advance. Coincidences helped to introduce the team optimally to fit the Mobile of the conditions. Everyone saw the signs and every existing level were mobilized. Finally, after the last brush stroke disinfected with incense, turning the air septic and sweet. It can’t be expressed how fantastic the feeling is overcoming the swoon and an amazement of gratitude to have rid yourself from burden. Tidy voidness. But until then, it’s still a long way to go.
The gamet of the resistors, doubts and jealousy must be explored, plowed in spirit and cleared out of the way. The team feels THEM physically; preprocessor existences, ancestors and the spirit of the times. A whole sea of osmotic plasma, partially floating and beleaguering the desperate resident of the House. All this mess has to be thinned out. What is it? Attention, attention! What was the topic again? Who already knows about it? No one can say it… “in the hush of Heine, in silence of the night…”
When things happen in a mutual understanding and good agreement the boat can be rocked and swung, all right. This is the: “I’m only human, the disaster was just too overwhelming” situation. It will be a task of smoothing. The relentlessly violent waves on a great ride, in deep waters need reduction until the sea rolls evenly in amplitude. She now follows the path of rational-thinking spirit. It’s fun. Tina laughs and shines with her heartfelt love. The afflicted and distressed look ahead and even they are visibly surprised and cannot wrap all of it. The waste is gone!!! The road was long and now there’s no more hold. Holding and clinging is prohibited, that will not be anymore!
Tina and her team know that they will not be substitute for all of the stuff, when all was taken away. It was also not their intension to change the peoples karma. More in the spirit of not leaving these people longer to the mercy of their own 4 walls. She sees it secular and real. She set the trail to give those people a helping hand.It’s her way creating higher order.
The following happened at a Reality Set, as Tina remembers quite clearly. The afflicted was to be assigned to the first category of Hoarder. The hit individual left his supposedly safe haven as an employee to persue ambitious goals. Navigating on strong winds with unwieldy sailings, at full speed and over the limits of his possibilities. What turned out to be? A hoarder with the highest degree of infection. The curvature of his subconscious and also that of above – Ground Operator Ego I, was out of alignment. At that time Bobo the sufferer, upside down and reversed, asked for help from Tina’s Team.
As a first step the most personal things were taken under attack. It’s a clever game that Tina applies on occasion. Letters before that time, extravagant postcards with big happy writing, holiday greetings such as: I just thought about you and many benevolent birthday cards. The boxes with letters – even of these utensils were a plethora of accumulation. The team had put them from one side to the other in the House, seemingly a small era long. Eventually a carton spilled dumping the content without any obligation, peered at the edges and slightly yellowed from the years. Ah, look here, that is a letter from my first great love after highschool. Take a look. What a giant swirly font. Criss -Cross, thought Bobo and immersed himself in his memory. All the junk in the House could be disposed noiselessly and without Bobo in the background. Plastic cutlery, old sports magazines, the first edition of GEO, extra creased shoes, Flip-Flops, cards and board games from the times of Sunday afternoon games. Blankets old moving boxes the team did not bother cheching, with a content not worth assigning a name for, tons of odds and ends. A box full of old rusty nails and bolts, screwdrivers and small technical devices such as battery powered drill angle grinder, wedges, hinges. There was a flicker of action, Tina thought. Clear indication herefore is the Automatic Lifting Crane – a long claw to heave and move. The attempt had been extinguished in it’s bud. The rebellion of the stricken against the needlessness. “Hold on a minute! Stop a moment”, shouted the sponsor of the House, holding the 2nd letter, at that time so existential loved and sought after, in his hands. “Don’t touch the machines”. That’s not a problem for Tina. She was often laughed at and called Tina the Business Consultant for Hoarder Realities. But that is not the case, on the contrary. She trained her employees in such ways, that the desire of the afflicted to stop – no rush at all, is to be ignored. 1. Rule: Never get engaged with the inhabitants of the House. Stick always nicely to me”, are the things she preaches before any Emergency Operation. “Order of things, things of order” is the 2nd rule.
On day 2 the whole team gathered- Tina ahead. She found a closed door. Surprised they entered through the garden to the back porch walking over a whole host of broken glass accompanied by the sound of crunching coarse debris. In her mind, Tina wished for a lineup of cocoa-brown, athletic bodies that show their muscles, slightly sweating at the weight press. Instead she glazes through the clouded windowpane seeing Bodo sitting on the floor in the living room surrounded by lesser of things but still many mountains of rubble around. As she stood thinking an image spilled out from her memories, something that had her tied up yesterday. In the hallway of the stuffed House she saw a conical pile of shoes. The shoes had oversized laces, which were in a completely entangled bulge, pinched between the individual shoes, grey, dirty and hopelessly flabby.
Tina was imaginative since her childhood. She thinks: Also a disorderly life, in the Here Being, could allow an Otherness child to be as it is. Collective. The path to be different than the way to be – an echo of the image in her acrobatic spirit – as laces-parenting- awareness- labyrinth. The awareness comes from the tangled depths up, to rapidly vanish back down, twisted, to pop back up into appearance to light. Two at the end hardened shoelaces of the meta awareness thread popping up, reinforced and laced back together in beautiful, old-fashioned mania for the purpose of keeping together, in an infinite loop. Here and now Tina thinks. It’s enough: that’s very psycho to devise something like that, just because of a pair of sports shoes. Dump this, by all means dispose the ghost.
Not often, but if there really was a fire TINA used one of her tricks. She realizes that she becomes involved in the Karma of the other and this is not right. Tina has caught herself moving in her client trying to find orientation within him, saw his order in thoughts and startled. That is going too far. Order of the Thiings, Thiings of the Order. Oh, damned be my green spit. On the border of desperation she calls back on her indefinable thinking, it’s like cleaning the cash in her brain. Think totally off track for an instant. Do something crazy. Don’t let yourself be tempted. She recits in her mind: wide awake and mourning, dizziness deep sky blue-violet dark eyed, smallest, up melancholy, moronic and constitutionally euphoric… She feels freed and detached from this pitiful sight. Speaking of pitiful sight. I must remember to organize the shopping cart, because a lot of the collected has also of value, she thinks. “Valuables” are bought by a fellow Antiques Dealer for good money, so Bobo can finance his new beginning.
Everyone took off. The team went back the way they came and left in their well-deserved time out. Armed by the inspiration of her dream the night before, she wondered what her team did during that time. She could only guess. They probably filled up with liquid spirit- booze those in the spirit sworn. And that without an energizer, which hypes up so benevolent and to give wings.
Everyone was all set again to clarify the “matter” and in any case, Tina has actually brought her shooting gun- for children on the beach to play waterspitting. Not a real armament but in the world of thought quite effective. The door to the House is open, this already is a very good sign, she thinks, so we can proceed with get it out and throw it away- rid yourself from all of your burden. Looking after the resident Tina winds her way on the cleared path towards the living room where she had watched him yesterday so immersed in himself. Today she found him somewhat hesitantly in the middle of the room, plucking on the guitar and singing with a breathy baritone voice a song. Bobo is very thin and relatively large, has a full white beard with a long braided pigtail. His eyes are watery blue and grayish, blury at the edges of the pupil. Staring on the letters lying around him, she immediately saw what happened. The harassed has catapulted himself on a carpet of letters, painted with large handwriting from the past, into a twirling mind on the way. Tina also reads one of these letters lying around just out of curiosity, from which she could not unleash herself.

My dearest friend in Paris! (Elsewhere, everywhere)
Today I came back home and it has done me well not to have seen Mainz. I’ve only missed your letters- now I have three at once! Why were you so depressed on the day you left? I can really only explain that you have too many ideals in mind. I admire you and wonder at the same time, how the reality in your twenty-year life hasn’t flayed you enough to take away your dreams. Since you were here, I caught myself, you’ve helped me, you helped me truly a lot and now you can stop worrying about me. I say this not to calm you down, it’s true and I said this before, you know, I don’t in general make a big fuzz about feelings.If I yet express them, it will be the full truth and need no further explanations. I want to write much more to you, but somehow I can’t, because in half an hour Gretel will be arriving here at the train station. My heart beats up to the neck, my knees are soft, can’t keep no right or left thought. As far as I can, I’m going to write you about all that happened- I do think anyway all the time of you, than Gretel and again you. When shall I actually work? Don’t be angry that I can’t write more.
until soon your S.

 

While Tina sympathetically reads and interprets at the same time, she hears the resident playing in the background on the guitar. Echoing not so bad in her head; sounds like the legendary smoky voice of Elvis Castello. She shifts her attention from the reading and listens to:

He lost his situation and hanging upside down, got stuck behind her back. His brain’s like scrambled eggs, his dick the deadest place. She’s no one’s sick and tired. It’s her, who made it over the fence. She doesn’t have to overdo this nonsense. It’s her who got a new ride on the living side -she lost the ownerless shadow got a new situation it’s her chance.

The chorus changes the mood of the song and picks up pace. Syncope and small rhythmic beats on the guitar underline the text- she understands well enough. Surprised and visibly impressed by the unusuall, subtle representation of the now situation in which twirling Bobo’s imaginary carpet of hand written letters sends him to

He can’t find his way back to the other side, gone crazy got stuck behind her back. He’s in a darkroom afraid without connection, sees the illuminating reflection, won back some orientation. He’s inside a camera obscura darkness falls. He knows he’s a far away eye of the beholder, takes a peek upside down and the wrong way around. He needs to stay away, live on the other side. He can’t find his way back to the other side, gone crazy got stuck behind her back :I

Whether her unconsciousness responded or she just could not breastfeed her curiosity enough, is hard to say. Anyway, she’s already holding the next letter in her fingers:

My dear friend, uff!
I just came from Marburg, while I stayed in Mainz on Saturday, Tuesday in Amsterdam. Where is my head? Stupid question, in Cologne and Marburg of course, because the two favorite people live here. Don’t be jealous, you’re my love that changes nothing and no one.
You’re a treasure with your beautiful writing paper, I was downright jealous of the two women, Wooh you. Why must it be two? It’s OK that you believe in women. Can you exploit them, actually? Bit by bit, I think that’s what a man can do with a woman- take advantage of them. Not only of their femininity, all above of their helplessness in love affairs. Yes. Women are as children, I’m telling you.
What I like so much about you is that you, as a man can feel weak too and showing strength by openly admitting, not fearing anxiety being on exposure. That is also strength. But can you imagine that Gretel, my divine Gretel, can’t decide, not because she is selfish and is rather in love with 2 women. No, she is actually completely helpless. She knows nothing and is counting on time and space to save the problem. I made it clear that she is relying on the other, on decisions made by me or Lola, which is more sad for her than for us, since she is the one foreign determined. She knows that, but when I said it out loud, she was sulky and hurt for hours, silent like a fish. Psychological terror in conversations that turned like a carousel all night long. I did’t want to demand her to make a decision, I rather wanted to help her. When I told her what she already knew and I had revealed myself to her, one thing that is very difficult for me to do with girls, she apparently felt pressed and yelled some sentences at me. Icy coldness the end of our relationship in words that were dressed in insults. Only a few more sentences, then silence. I was thinking that only myself has forfeited our relationship, although I actually didn’t know why. I laid like a stone placed there and her- seemingly hours lasting, averted face, a lack of feelings. There were minutes only of tears. I felt how they ran over my face. I love you, I love you. I need you but. As in a dream, I have gratefully accepted these words and I believed them, then. What did you expect otherwise but a sting remaining. In the deepest and darkest place of my head, I hardly dare write this, but one of these days, he will say these words so easily to Lola. No, she loves this woman very much, and I think it’s quite certain that it would be possible for them, to separate, without I having to force – I’m pretty sure of this. Your dearest S

Thoughtful she puts the letter back at the point where she picked it up. With a modified view she quickly grasped that she needed to pitch in her modest but compact psychological talent to master unwelcome situations. Let him pluck away and sing. I will decrypt this picture, with severe memory, like a lake of stubborn hope. Where he had gone to on the other side, she will not follow him. It’s not her time and space. She intuitively tilted her head slightly, let it fall in her neck, trying to untangle the ends of what she just read. Burning wounds from the past. A man loves a woman, who is in love with a woman, who loves another woman. It will not get simpler. Boy oh boy, Tina ponders. She didn’t like these letters in the first place, especially reading them while seeing Bobo, who provoked her interest at the other end of the room. A strong arm pushes Tina aside. The matter must be settled. We will dispose, no questions, the systemic- analysis will have to wait. Back with feet in the mess of things she gives instructions on what needs to be done next. “There in the corner, what is that”? Clipboards, which could also serve as firewood, get rid of them. Best you don’t mind Bobo, leave him to himself.
Wait a second, Tina is thinking, her gesture is clear. She puts her left arm underneath her breasts, leaning her body to the other side, supporting the elbow of the right arm with the hand. She positions the right leg forward like a ballerina would and leans back a little. The night laid in full size around the House, the stars were exceptionally bright, leaving a slightly trembling trail in the sky. The team jointly decided to light a bonfire and burn everything that looked like wood. On one side some of the team members with a beer in hands. Tina standing with the very strongest guy, Tony, holding each other and staring into the licking flames, feverish red glowing faces, such as fire fighters holding the position. Immediately the limbs warmed up. When the fire turned in an ash glowing pile, Tina got a little dizzy. I didn’t drink beer, Tina thinks to herselfe. In the background the rough voice of the Hoarder –a hip hop like tune- waves spread in the dark. Seen from the outside one could witness a romantic meeting of people, nothing lead to the assumption that this demonstrates a key scene, no one really understood at that time. By now, everyone had made plans for the next day. With new insight and calmness, no one was aware of the singing in the background anymore, they went back into the House. The words were clear, he sang the same song over again:

I’m not one of those rich type of people
I’m not a fortune maker
It’s the moment that counts:II
All I give for love
Are words to play?
Words to play!

I keep my head over water and out of the clouds
I’m not a borderline type taker
It’s the moment that counts.
All I have are hidden secret boundaries
Some hidden boundaries

Don’t need anybodies traces in my black box
I’m not an empty mind faker
It’s the moment that counts
No need for love drooping eyes
Any lovers eyes?

I’m not a fortune maker
Mam no fortunes
All I give for love
Are words to play?
Mam words to play!

I’ll keep it all easy upside-down
I’m not the wrong way around
It’s the moment that counts.:II
I’ll give my sunshine heart
Sunshine to your heart!

I’m just waiting for that right kind of swinging
I’m painless bubbly sexy stuff
It’s the moment that counts.:II
I’ll whisper cherry blossoms in her ear
Sweetest Shivers up her spine

I’m not a fortune maker
Mam no fortunes
All I give for love
Are words to play?

The evening came to an end and there was nothing more to do in the House. They said goodbye equipped with left over heat from the campfire. Tina herself felt still somewhat of a dizziness. Bobo was left back alone.

Arriving home Tina tried to sort the lyrics she just heard, depicting a not seldom occurring phenomenon, into what happened today. Melancholical mirth, hand in hand with a precarious situation and this leads to the view that only love counts. In popular words: It’s what comes around at bottom line. Love without money! Already on the way to her car, which she has driven for several years now, Tina realized that a seed of worthlessness got stuck in his soul. But even if he had enough money to prove the value of his love, it wouldn’t have changed the present constellation; Man loves a woman who loves another women, nothing satisfying could have come about. That’s most likely the reason for the benighted ride on wild waters and the beginning of Hoarder life and all of this to escape his failures. There is more sea. The people’s motivating power is will, she concludes, which leads directly to the suffering of our consciousness, if the goals are not achieved. For every desire of wishing there are insatiable subconscious drives, helping to make available what man desires. The constant temptation but never fulfilled, broke him apart and lead to his Hoarder existence. Tina assumes that Bobo probably never was bored, but there was no incentive because his love would be denied to him anyway. All efforts to find gratification for his courageous, daring ventures to raise money, to enhance his value, failed. His reward, which let him forget his apparent worthlessness sucked him into a mess-up.

Tina looks very attentive in the mirror and focuses while she put all together. She is aware that there is not a minute to waste, nor can she get careless or slow in such difficult situations. The thread must be analyzed constantly in the flow of events. Am I the one that’s dressing up just now? Are these my teeth? Of course! Who elses? If she sometimes felt painful, she knew this was due to an error. She thought she was someone other than Tina. She was in the other person and complained his mischief: For example, for the musician who has no audience and yet can barely breathe, because his entire House is stuffed with instruments, or for other people who are working on similar misery. She knows it’s not her, its foreign debris she picked up on – the garment that she wore a while and then traded off against another one.
With watchful eyes and the love surrounding her, it’s Tina, who is on her way cracking this lovable Bobo nut. I don’t look like a stupid chicken, she thinks, looking in the mirror, where she saw her blond hair complementing her round face. Small-pored skin is always a good sign for neat appearance and inner balance. Everything is all right, she is pleased – pore to pore. Nevertheless she feels a slight swelling in her face, when curling her eyes down to her Throat Chakra. Too bad, I can’t peak into the microscopically small that would be the purest of all perspectives, she regretted shortly. Anyway, back to the actual problem to solve, Bobo. She recalls her experience that collecting is a pleasure, which inherently quite a lot of people enjoy doing. Lapsed in the ban of desire and delighted by the lust to hoard things. Each object is associated with memories and stories that the owner can bring back to the present by touching, looking and smelling. Well-being and enjoyment of life is the most important essence of happiness, so therefore man must be his own best friend. Considering this, she geared towards the kitchen because her stomach started growling. She’s hungry as a wolf. All Fresh and saturated, she takes unmeasured time off and withdraws in her beautifully crafted Buddhist space. Years of training and master classes devoted to emptiness, is what she learned. It is in these hours that Tina overcomes a lack of energy or imagination, transformes her forces and plans the next day in advance. Epicurus – purrs she in her sleep. A lion’s head drifts through the dreamscapes, Toni appears. As she woke from her sleep out of her refuge, she utteres an erratic “where am I”? – all was lost in darknes because she woke up very early in the morning. Things, rooms, the TV-Channel, her Team, a body, too stiff to stir. She sought to unleash herself to tap out the drowsyness, reconstruct to give a name to what had happened. I had put old to new, designed one into another room, that I had seen in the dream before my awakening. A small pressure on the windowpane, as if her thoughts would have triggered something; she heard a soft lightweight stream, like a flow of sand grains that someone drisselt from a higher window. The soundwaves spread, becoming rhythmic continous fluid – its raining, Tina thinks with a pleasant coffee smell in her nose. During her routine morning toilet she wonders a little bit about the hullabaloo of her night- dream- thoughts. Bobo is Tina’s 3rd Hoarder Reality, whom she had chosen in a preselection of applications in accordance with the editorial staff at the TV-Channel. The previous Hoarder Realities were to the extent of the clutter and hoarding a lot worse, than this one, but yet in many ways less complex.

On the 3rd day in the mornings, Tina and the team met at Bobo’s House. After some phone calls with the editorial staff at the TV-Channel and several telephone conversations with the expert for the “valuable debris”, she proves she can concentrate on the outside, even after the nightly overtime; Keeping a healthy Buddhists mind. With loving kindness and commitment she will be active in the Bobo world- all in the service of others. Or like sailors, actively navigating between swirls and cliffs to make sure that everything of value out of the pile of crap, is saved and sold for good money in behalf of the troubled collector and with Tina’s contacts. For this purpose the rennouned expert was asked to join the team – a buying setting symbolized through a ShoppingCart. The consultant rapidly begins to explore the room with the more valuable pieces. His experienced eyes see an old sword with a beautiful handle and chiseled on the blade. It is in excellent condition and according to a spontaneous estimation from the late 19th century. That’s already something; he will determine later the exact value in his hand book for weapons. He even has a buyer in mind. It is always the same, he ponders, the moldy smell as a base note mixed with sweat odor of old clothes passes through the bedroom, which is next to the room with the valueable things. While the expert examines a flashy, in attack mode kneaded cat. Tina and her team is all over to fill the container with the most grossest stuff and to organize the dumping. To get Bobo out of their feet, Tina sent him to the expert in the room of treasures, so he can say a few words to the objects. Where did he get the beautiful old sword and what is the history of the flashy cat. Also, the expert is very excited and interested in the car fender-looking sheet metal part. Bobo didn’t hesitate a minute, because he sees an opportunity to get something out of the whole thing. As a collector it is him, Bobo, who now plays an absolutely essential role. He might have been downgraded in his love life and his heritage, in this realm and on this occasion he occupies the leading position, when it comes to the merit and the description of the origin. “Yes”, he says somewhat breathless with sloppy pronunciation, “I purchased it at an auction”. He no longer knew what he paid for the antique sword, but it was a lot of cash. He really had a good time with his former friends. The cat was designed by his boyfriend artist for a fountain in a town, whose name and where it is located, he can no longer remember. The friend had incidentally made himself a name as a sculptor. Bobo feels very attached to the sculptured cat, as the memory of the days with his friend is very important to him. The expert seemed to know immediately which artist they were talking about, because he said without hesitation that this cat design could bring also a good sum of money. To make sure, he’ll consult again an appropriate non-fiction book, but he is completely sure that he holds something valuable in hands. Bobo seemed slowly to solve his partiality of interest because his eyes and his voice gained strength and clarity. “Yes”, he is aware of the situation, therefore he must at least get $1000 for it, or even more. “No, now”, the expert said, he will call his assistant immediately and clarify what these pieces are worth. This will be promptly clarified, he said again and immediately went out to photograph the objects with his Smartphone.While he poked around in the beer coasters collection, the photo-files wandered to his assistant. Next, Mr. Schneider, that’s the specialists name, took a close glanz at the stamps and coins with a small magnifying glass in hand. At the same time Bobo stared at the man, who was wearing clean and ironed grey slacks, held with a black belt over the watermelon belly, a non-iron shirt with medium-sized red and grey squares. His hair was gray but for his age still very full-bodied, he seemingly needed no glasses, except the magnifying glass. At first glance, not so heartless and on top of it very focused, Bobo thought, waiting nervously on Mr. Schneider’s comment. “There are no really valuable stamps and there are no gold coins”, he said after a while, “but the amount does it”. While these two’s minds were occupied with the fender, which they had figured out originated from an old Trabbi, Tina inspected the outcome, the empty rooms she passes through, while checking back with the TV-staff, what is next on the agenda, again in consultation- always busy. The callings went back and forth, there a requests to clarify- here another question and while she busily engaged, briefly peeked in the room where Mr. Schneider was adding up the sum, she called the team together and all were eagerly waiting for Bobo’s reaction, when he saw the final total on the Smartphone. Actually, he was quite satisfied with $7.500 Bodo said a little hesitantly, but for the sword he had asked $500 more. Tina wasn’t stingy about it and said jovially to the expert that this probably wouldn’t be a problem?! “No”, Mr. Schneider said that $500 was over the top, he would offer Bobo $250 more, so the end sum of $7,750 is available for a new start. Finally, he, Mr. Schneider has the contacts, potential buyers and interested parties. Bobo only had to give a handshake. He did this with a liberated smile and shining eyes. To Tina, he said, he had been surprised that the kneaded cat was so much worth, but Art is just one thing for itself.

Bobo was left with eases alone in the cleaned house, he felt somewhat melancholical and pondered whether he should read or not read the letter once wrote, but never sent off to his 1 big love. Yes, everything is gone now. All the things I was attached to and here I hold the last never sent letter by me in my hands. Hesitantly he sat down in the rocking chair covered with a sheepskin and read the large font.

You know- what I am about to write you my friend is not easy for me. I feel in what a desperate situation you find yourself, believe me, I can sense it. Your are feeling helpless and without power in regards to your relationship- to a person you think you love- it is probably the hardest what life has imposed on us because it is difficult to endure. You know what I think humans role in life is, when serious about love? To mature first, to ripen, to be authentic and not at any other’s will desire. I ask myself even as I write this: Do you feel sometimes lonely (or am I reflecting my state on you?) Only the solitude or being alone is going to untangle your inner clutter. You will be not among the people, who lose themselves to the will of the other, because you throw yourself to their feet, as caotic as you are. How could young people, who chain themselves to each other and can no longer differentiate themselves, perceive who they are? You no longer are onesome might not find a way out on their own. What I am trying to say is, that perhaps it is better, if your relationship with others is as it is and not normal. You know, I wish I could find answers to general questions on relationships, but as I already said, it is the greatest task in our life; to learn to love someone. Maybe love is the relationship between two lonely people who protect themselves, touch and understand each other. This entire writing probably is totally incomprehensible to you, write me what you think about my profound thoughts. What I still wanted to write, and I hope you don’t get me wrong, is in detail; it concerns my behavior, or better my talk in bed about the love for you- that I would also desire you sexually, if it weren’t for these barriers everywhere. Just imagine our life or better our excistence symbolized by a room, which most people only know small corners of, it’s that evident. But I think it is necessary that we explore the rare sites in our room, each abyss – we have to accept our existence as far as possible; everything even that outrageous, must be possible. It is very important that we be open to the courageous, strangest, opinionated in our minds too. I am writing these things, because I’m throwing conventions, candybars, false morality off board to be open for possible but not foreseeable experiences. That keeps a honest relationship alive and hoping. What I’m saying is, that I am sorry to have afflicted you, now you need not fear me because you did not expect that I could crave you. (incidentally neither did.)

As Bobo finished reading the letter that he had written to himself, he wondered about why he mentiond a candy bar. Did he really read candy bar, or what? Now, as then he was always rather slim, whatever, in any case, he, Bobo has a neat uncluttered house and more money. Bobo felt facilitated went with lilting steps outside to celebrate a truly heartfelt farewell to the helpers. Not unmoved he expresses his gratitude and shook everyones hands. Finally, he directed is mildly ecstatic happiness to Tina, who seemed shivering, embraced her and the kindness surrounding her. She loves being hughed to the heart and she felt a surge of warmth flowing through her entire body. The slight back pain disappeared immediately, her through the back and forth slightly stiffend right knee felt smoothly oiled. The audience gathered around them watching the scene with sweet emotion. Now, I need a piece of chocolate, Tina thought dissipating sensitively out of Bobo’s embrace. Surely, she didn’t want to overdo the uplifting scene, because the gesture of embrace might bring a blurry love back to days. Feeling bliss is a sublime form of pleasure, the only ambition of human endeavor, echoed in her ears when she was on her way home. She did not question why Bobo had hoarded exactly these things. There is no set that can determine the values of things. Only the selection of things that Bobo ventured hoarding gave a clou, in which part of his universe he had arrived. He did not believe he could do without the things that hold messages and are symbolic to him. He had lived under these circumstances because he could line in his observations with his memories. Now, he freed his lonely heart from a heavy burden and begins with the goodness of others his new unforeseeable ventures.