Out of my pencilcase

“Tonight I take my pencil for a walk..” do I hear myself mumbling as I march through pouring rain.

I am just about to ask somebody, how many heavy raindrops my head can stand before I get a serious headache, as I feel the pencil in the pocket of my jacket.

High5 and we move on.

Our way leads us from road to path, from path to routes and from routes to narrow trails. Till we end up on an edge.

I suggest myself to better stop before I fall and headache – caused by to much rain on the forehead – will be my smallest problem.


Still standing. My thoughts are on the run, escaping from the prison called mind. I chase and lose them as I get overwhelmed by this view at the edge of my inner world.

SILENCE is the answer I receive when I ask – Where do I belong.

Useless pencil do I think and we move on.

We are about to arrive our final destination when I realize our walk turned into a journey. Finally H o m… I stop before I start beginning with the end of my sentence.

I am confused. I jump in my bed and bury myself under Billows and Plankets.

It is dark in my room and it is dark at the inside of me. I stop all movement to have silence again.

Everything left, all is now far – that’s when my pencil replies Oh Canada.



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