
The Real Man


There is a parasite that get’s into the brain of animals. And at the right moment they give their host a sudden urge to go to a sea or a flood. Walk out in the water. And drown themselves. Because the parasite needs water to lay their eggs. I don’t know why, but for some reason I come to think of love. A brain altering parasite that makes us act in a way that is contrary to what actually is good for us. And makes us walk out in the water despite the fact that our consciousness screams and tells us that we act like fools. So make sure that the evil shrimp doesn’t get in to your brain.
A letterbox. Open for communication with a parallel universe or dimension. And, at the time it was created, it was my firm belief that this actually was possible. But the portal in the space-time continuum has been closed and my life is now quite one-dimensional. As the theory goes, every choice leads to an infinite number of possible lines that spreads out across time. The trick is to choose the right door at the right time. Well, I tried, but it was locked. Love is like Schrödingers cat. It can both exist and not exist at the same time. And when you open the lid and peer in to the box you force it to choose. Of course it dies.