I Wasn’t Going
The ground was wet and muddy, sticky and without compassion. The fog born from the depths of the night grew denser and moister with each step I took. Around me, within a radius of around a hundred paces, there was an expectant silence, but I was certain that somewhere out there—far away or just one step away from me—the night owl lay in ambush, a harbinger of bad news… I had no recollection of how I had left home. I mean, what I had left had not been home for a long time already – it was a closed space that kept growing smaller and more cramped with each day, suddenly ending up like a noose tightening around my neck… I did not leave home; I snatched my body and flung it out the window, even though the door was wide open and I was alone at home, with nobody to stop me. After
