Category Archives: Experiments


The city looms large and monstrous before me. With hundreds and thousands of windows for eyes, buildings stretch upwards towards the clouds in the sky, grasping unsuccessfully for a place among the stars. Frustrated, they vent their anger on people that walk the streets and those that reside within them, denying them sunlight and wind, and occasionally water in their taps. The 12-storied one before me, with anger in its bricks, eyed me suspiciously. I’d been thinking of killing past lovers, of plunging knives into their backs and twisting them around, boring into bone. Afraid that the building might have read my murderous thoughts, letter by letter, I shifted uncomfortably on the ledge, from side to side, from foot to foot, turning my eye upwards to search for eagles and other high achievers. It didn’t work.
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Cafe Sunrise (v2.0)

There he was – Joe Ceer, sitting alone on a chair in CafĂ© Sunrise, staring into an empty glass.

After every two and a half minutes (exact), Joe would turn exactly ninety degrees, anti-clockwise, and gaze through that empty glass at those before him. Ever so often, while he was staring through that glass in his hand, Joe’s face would exhibit a peculiar smile, if it could be called a smile- that seemed to hint at a state of inebriation or lunacy (whichever comes first). Then, as he would turn, all expression would be drained from his face, until ninety degrees were traversed, anti-clockwise. He would then proceed to smile that peculiar smile, unless it was Alfredo Disjun that sat in his line of distorted vision; in which case, he looked nauseated.
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Cafe Sunrise (v1.0)

There he was – Joe Soothsayer, sitting alone on a chair in Cafe Sunrise, staring into an empty glass.

Alfredo Aberration, with a glass of warm scotch in hand – no ice cubes, no water – looked up from his Playgirl magazine to stare at Joe Soothsayer, sitting alone on a barstool, staring into the empty glass. Alfredo Aberration looked around him. Near the Jukebox danced the petite and curvacious Lyzzie Short, braided hair in hand, and alone. But Afredo couldn’t but look back at Joe Soothsayer, sitting alone on a barstool in Cafe Sunrise, staring into an empty glass.
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You’re lying down on a cold, hard and rude rooftop of an aborted building that will probably never see completion, staring at the stars and wondering why they seem to be shining so bright tonight, and why they don’t shine on you favourably. You sigh a deep sigh and resignation reigns you in and relaxes you; and then you ask yourself – Why? Why does it matter? Does it matter? Does anything matter?
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