The view into the world the autodidactic artist

Logo of the studio community Steel & Color Logo of the studio community Steel & Color

Work exhibition Steel & Color

Henning Block & Sylvia Aevermann

German release --› German Version.

Quite a usual Monday or the borders of the reality - short story

It seemed to be once again of one of this quite usual assembly. The ear-deafening din of my alarm clock had the gentleness of a charming dream with bomb power way there-catapulted. "Oh no", I roared loudly and was shattered almost the hand with the alarm exhibit.
Scarcely I had shut my drunken eyes after "Of night", as this damned invention of a time vulture the new day wanted to hammer. The shades of the night had hung to themselves as weights on my eyelids and wanted to hinder me in the visor. I rubbed my aching hand, beat off the ceiling and staggered in the bath. The last night had probably been hard a little bit. Where had I still been same? Oh yes, with Hassan on the party. Everybody had been horrified that there was only juice, but Hassan praised "Specific feature" of his brand own building and, in the end, it had made no difference to all.
The unfamiliarity of the massive doses of vitamins seemed to move everybody into ecstatic ecstasy.
I turned up the cold water inflow and shovelled to me the cold wave in the face, then looked up to the mirror.
, Nevertheless, what I saw there, was more gruesome than all gruesome what I had one day seen before in my life. I saw same: nothing. I gasped out
"With God": "Or roast to me one the Satan. What is this around sky will?" I scanned my face with the hands, however, could feel unambiguously all contours, generally I could see my hands, my feet, everything of myself. - Only the reflexion. Once again I looked in the mirror and the terror was confirmed once more.
"Shit", was not to be said any more in addition. Excitedly I overthrew
to the phone and selected the number of my family doctor.
", Hello, here practise doctor rattle mud", there sounded the metallic voice of the speech hour help.
"Yes, here is."
"Hello, here practise doctor rattle mud. Who is there please? Here "
"is... "
"Here a practise doctor rattle mud! Who is there please? "
"One, condemns woman, leave they me dissuade from..."
"practise doctor rattle mud who speaks there? Hello!"
Like Venetian blinds curled it to itself to me before eyes, once again I lifted in to speak: "Here is...", however, the metallic voice: "Here practise doctor rattle mud", interrupted me again.
"Damned, Can `hear they me do not?"
"Here practise..."I banged the listener on the cradle hook and sank backward on the sofa. What do?
my brain worked at full speed; any new drug? It makes invisibly? My feet! When? Where? What done? Thoughts circled, rotated, seemed to bring the pseudo existence, this, my head for bursting. - Only out. The border had reached him my confusion. I avoided while tightening looking in the mirror to which cruelly frights leave in the flat. the non-existence of my body shone. Where only had my body landed? Indeed I would have groaned at the sight of in the mirror about a pimple, or would have lamented the rings under the eyes. Witnesses of the life. But now? Where nothing at all more...., why nothing more?
Nothing can tighten itself not! What did I tighten then? "Reaches shirt, shoes, oh well trousers..."
existed Unambiguously the things, nevertheless....
.... and looked in the mirror.

trousers, shirt and shoes danced in the air and let assume forms of a body. I laughed by the image such a thing on streets stroll to long, however, with the reality concerned, the laughter lodged to me in the neck.
"Hmmh..., so nothing!" and took off the things again. Ridiculously, only the thought to go stark naked through the town. Through the town? Where? nevertheless, a shirt tightened to me
"to Hassan?",
took off it again. nevertheless,
sooner or later I would pass! What had we talked yesterday about? Astral projections, Levitation. Wandering by time and space. The borders of the reality that I do not laugh. Disgruntled I went out. Outdoors on the street I felt strangely relieved! However, also a little oppresses.
"Invisibly, freely... pfft!"
Slowly I sauntered along the street, turned right and bumped against a rushing passer-by. His pocket fell to bottom and the sheets former in it scattered.
"Hmmh, forgiveness!", I said and started to collect with it the sheets when the passer-by broke out in unarticulateable shouts and ran away.
I forgot that he probably see me neither, nor horn was able. Slowly I started to feel lonely.... and went on in the direction of park to the pond. To the pond!

I had to laugh with the thought: "invisible drowns itself.", Nevertheless, to the pond. Hotfoot to the nudist's beach.
Robert and Joyce were there.
"High", I replied. However, also here the same play. They could see me neither horn nor! Even more disgruntled than anyhow already, I took one of the shirts which lay on the shore, it slipped over to me and composed me on the ceiling.
I discovered just a slip of paper and a pin when Robert of the pond edge roared: "Ey Joyce, you have hidden `N bellows in your T-shirt?"and he and Joyce got closer as it were surprised.

I wrote just on the slip of paper when Joyce became unconscious and Robert screamingly away-rave.

I let it be with the T-shirt and returned hotfoot home. Only wanted to think, think. One rang.
"Maybe everything only hallucination", I said loudly and opened the door. Before the door stood somebody who looked almost like Hassan, the face with white greasepaint covered, gloves, care and sunglasses.
"Hassan?", I asked and the person nodded.
"you can horn me?", asked Hassan.
"And you can see me?"
Happily we rushed in the arms.
"Like you have noticed it?", asked Hassan.
"What? The invisibility and unaudibility?"Hassan nodded.
"in the mirror looked and tries to call up rattle mud and Robert and Joyce grievedly. "with the thought of it I had to laugh:"Crazily funnily. And you?"
Hassan grinned: to go shopping "Only to the postman the door open and tried. Not sometimes in the mirror watched!"
"Hmmh, why we can talk to us long and?"
Hassan twitched only with the shoulders.
"Can you remind you what we have talked yesterday about?", he asked.
"stellar projection, occultism, just mystic junk", I answered. "However, where the connection should be, between sense of the life and invisibility?"
Hassan scratched in the head and started to wipe his greasepaint with loo paper: "Yesterday you yourself said that in our universe everything had to be possible if only the human mind be not able to be to pressed in a cover and submits to physical scales."
"However, shit", I stepped: "What is still possible then if I can confide in the outside world only in writing, everybody runs away horrified if I become apparent!?"
Hassan grinned: "What you believe then, why we can see ourselves?"
"no notion!", I shouted: "Who says me that it are not also a hallucination or illusion?"
"Just!", said Hassan certainly.
"Just?", I asked. "Just what? yesterday"
"I have belonged to you", said Hassan calmly. "you said that the human does not know the nature of his own being and his forces. Even his image of any borders is based on experience of the past and every step expands forward his empire!"
"Yes, yes, but what this deals with the reality?"
"Because there is no ground", Hassan replied: to stick "on theoretical borders what can be the human or what he wants to do!"
"Yes, yes, everything quite clearly", I started Hassan: "however, what this deals with my or our invisibility?"
"I for my part", said he: "being able to do you and me see. Really!"
"Yes, but the reflexion", I said and positioned myself ostentatiously before the mirror.
Horrified I went back. Where me before the disembodiedness had frightened, now his availability frightened me. My body was reflected in the mirror.
"Hassan!", I squealed: "I am there again!"and turned me.
"Hassan?"He was nowhere to be discovered.
It rang in the door. I fell and tore open the door. Hassan, completely changed clothes, without make-up tracks stood before the door.
"High, Aivlys! I bring back your car key."
"What?", I looked at him horrified. yesterday
"Yes, I had lent me your carriage."
"Being you not?", I stuttered.
"Being I what? Something not okay? You look shocked so."
"Oh nothing! Confusion on Monday!"
The car key glided to me from the hand and when I him lifted I had to smile.e On the bottom a piece of loo paper with greasepaint lay with it.

© Copyright 2000-2022 by Steel and Color. Henning Block and Sylvia Aevermann. Contemporary artist.