All of it! Too much. All of it! Too far. Time. It passes. Too fast! Pitilessly. Seeps. Melts. Away! Deepens. In thoughtlessness. Ridiculously! Always they come. In between! The troublemakers à gogo. No day without opportunity. Missed. Naked. Desire. Blank envy! The annihilating inferiority. A must! Those force-fed seconds. Of sausaged time. Tiresome remains of a big bang. Of a quirky fate. With two knotted ends. Emergency exit: forget it! Teeth biting them? Cannot do it. Do not want it! Divine teeth? Divinity fudge? It,time, flowing through genestoo tight. Manipulated! Stuttering ones! Scary ones! Petty ones! Temporary ones! And, nevertheless, scarcely to be cut off. Possibilities to escape? None. The knots are too good! Pulled too tight. Death. The end. Of the sausage. The closer to the end of this sausage, the tighten the knots. And in between? Greasy time splashes. Atomic transient mushrooms. Ceasing to be. With one depression after the other. The low kick of the addiction. Of the daily prognosis. Weather forecasts. Traffic jam predictions. 5.15 pm. The time is ripe. The day flees. The weather channels are stoking up. The ones with a depression over the Bay of Cologne. The others with a high on the Alzette¹. I am the Alzette. No real river. No clear one. Am also no clear person. No clear thinker. Streamlined. No story writer. No taleteller. No sensemaker. Let the others talk fluently. I cannot do it. Do not want it. Not so! Not now! Not here! No time. No lust. It doesn’t make sense. I knot them together! The bars of this book. Like ramsausages. Like wordsausages. Desecrate them. Toss them. Crunch them. In my head. In my paws. My being! Like defenceless sperms in the knot of a condom. The cusp of desire. The corner of the pinching fun. Carry on with them. Drive it out. Of them. What was said. For fun. Andthe not speakable? Throw it flatly on the stretcher of innocence. The bleached rain forest discs. Black on white. Binary. Recently. The stammering sponge cells protest. The wobbly stem cells too. Let them! Go ahead! Stutter! Laugh! Wonder! In my solitary confinement cell I am the boss! Alone! With time. Only play a role. Extra’s leading role. Roll forwards. In the deadlock! I am time, I am cannon fodder. Rifle heel! Loaded! Ready to shoot. Playing affected? Not that bad. It will come out all right! The experts agree. An irretrievable end? There is none. No irretrievable end? None. Anyhow. The time’s chance of survival is jammed. In the stanchions of the sausages of life’s meat. Its healing would be a miracle. A scandal. An illusion. Another one. In the current monotony. Time has come. Is a sausage. The Alzette is a sausage. A cracking one. Losing itself in the blow-out sausage. In the glowing fat. In the expanding one. In no time! Oops? Speed limit? Dead loss! Sounds like a sensation. On the run. Of the interchangeable Alzette. This grilled river. In time-lapse motion. Escape in the affected seas. Dragging the time tankships on the back. A heavy load! With double bottom. And lovely name. Erika! The seas which languidly pull their floods over their tides. Like the dreamer the duvet over his greedy sleep. This cramped time traveller! Accepted in the club of the stingy tides. And that in any and every night. Seas which lengthen me in my Alzette. Like a tasteless chewing gum. Bitten and spat out. If needs be to New York. Stretched. In length. Where it devours the dust of the twin towers. It! The tasteless. Timeless! The accidental time scratch ticket in a starved gambling game. Zero chance of winning. Soaked hours. Lying seconds. Bogus sessions of life. In the meat. Of the sausage. That dangles on me. Between the Alzette and the Hudson River. They, the knot sticks of the Atlantic Ocean. That lets the time tankers scarify crooked pregnancy scars into the skin. As if it was the beginning of a gaga town in the curve of a sharp night. But not with me! The distance is too big. Between both ends. The sausage too long. The meat too stinky. Time gone to seed. Decay smells. The sausage a rivulet. An Alzette. A knotted. Brewed one. That backs up. And does not dare. Dare to rise. Flood danger in the deep valley of the past. The pregnancy tears. And the future? Stuck. Cooked and stirred. It’s not me! Is out of the question. Am no natural gut. You got it? Only to make sure. Where it leads? Whether the knot bursts? If out-of-nothing comes out of nothing? Like the sausage palaces out of the Alzette valley. The valley of falling and befalling. And it would also please you. Of that I am convinced. The life in another city. More life. More people. More time. More bearing. More fermenting. More prospering. Only the temperature must be right. And the automatic time. The adjustable. The atomic one. So that it does not burn! The imbued. Sluggish. Misdoing. The inanimated dangling in the gut skins. Between the continents. The time in the meatgrinder. Strained. The time atoms in the sausage. Hidden. The Alzette in sheep’s clothing. Crawling away. The moaningin my forehead. Arrived. My eyeslike knots. Tautologised. Two blond pigtails in the freeze-frame of my reflection which swims in the black coffee cup. And threatens to drown. My future! In the morass of the coffee grounds. Drowned. A blunt bludgeoning. However, the look gets a motionless fright. Mine. The sucked one. What is that? How does it look? Does it smell? That’s not how it goes! My knot is unravelable after all! Imprisoned in it. In the coffee knot. Dispute knot. Hourly knot. The hours are nerves. Counted. Incorporated ones. The thoughts traffic knots. Enervating! Knockouts! Flashing traffic jam lights in the roadmap of my confusion. Watch out! Important message! Because of large mob of people increased traffic jam danger on the Adolphe Bridge. Honking cars devour unsuspecting home-comers. Bearing beer in mind. Logging-off. Enervated. What if the children scream? ...........