WORK, WORK
I love you tomorrow… My mobile phone dances to James Brown’s wailing. Something buzzes inside me. The sweat-drenched bedsheet cuts through my dream and reality. I bury my head in the down pillow. I love you today. It continues. Jesus, I love you… My head… my head… boom… it has exploded. I wake up in the city of Yerevan – Arabkir 21st Street, apartment 24, it is thirteen o’clock, or one in the afternoon. It is never too late to start the day. Thank the Lord I am not alone. In Venezuela, Luisa is rubbing her eyes, Foé is running to the bathroom to pee, Murad is still asleep in Albania. We serve in a united army – the regiment of the unemployed.
I sit up in bed. Sweet sleepiness is still holding me in its embrace, like an orgasm. My fingers somehow manage to feel and find the tab
