Couldn’t tell the colour. I could only feel it in my throat.

Not sure if it had wings, horns, or hooves.. It just was.. I mean.. it was neither coming nor going.

Sometimes it was so ticklish, it would really crack me up.
And sometimes it felt like a phenomenon, an accident, it would jolt my eyes.

I wanted to touch it.. with my hands, with my heart. I wanted to scream at it, cherish it.

It was purple, had the smell of rain, was very playful and constantly wanted to play hide and go seek.
It was wrapped in a piece of white cloth to cover its purpleness.

As if my eyes have been imprisoned for a lifetime by a stain. The stain that is attacking the whiteness of this cloth.
The words are stuck in my throat. I wish I could cough them out.
But.. The word “but”, beware of the word “but”!

Every once in a while the anxiety in my eyes loses itself in the blabbers of my mind.
But the white stain had totally got me involved.

I should have turned purple.

- Why are you shaking like this? what could go wrong? I thought you believed in your life story?
- Believe in what? my fate?

I should have turned purple, but the tiny stain on the cloth was holding me back.

I made up my mind. The whiteness belonged to me, to my beliefs, to my fate.
Now I was so close to the fabric that the stain went out of sight, it vanished.
I should have turned purple but that white fabric... this “but”, beware of “but”...

Can not remember what happened. When I came to my senses I was eating the fabric voraciously. I swallowed it...

I should have turned purple.