photo credit: planetschwa

Butterflies nibbling on pancakes with ice-cream and syrup are inhaled along with their treetop village, and sneezed out into a meeting of market traders discussing the price of flour, which will go into the pancakes made for butterflies in treetop villages. The scattering of butterflies lights up on the radar screen.

A burn hole on the retina!

Behind your eyes noble and sly thoughts bundle together into nerves. Very least behind the retina. Very most behind the burn hole.

The clones of mister V. and mister A. are being pushed around in wheelbarrows by energetic gnomes carrying colourful hats and timetables for all European train routes except Bologna – Parma. In the termite holes (the collective weight of termites outnumbers the collective weight of human beings 10 to 1, but I didn’t know that at the time), a catchy deathliness takes shelter that, once incited, does not spare itself.

When a mouse eats meat-wrapped meat, the fireplace eats some logs and hums contently. There was a scratch on one of the walls of the room, from which one can deduce past events with some degree of probability.

Whichever mouse is called Winston grabs grapes. A tiny frond glides across the river Tantalus, which seems terribly out of place for Winston. Bellows, weeping willows, a riverbarge filled with beanstalk, and for anyone interested the Company supplies a free aardvark (happens to feed on termites). Winston is able to do this much: sing.

Dear human, you must have soup.

There are different kinds of soup. Mushroom soup, asparagus soup, tomato soup, animal ambulance soup, Tuesday evening soup, blue mouth soup, flagrant denial soup, fried soup, sweaty soup, vinyl soup. How many types of soup are there? I’d say pretty near to incalculable.