Inner existence

At that moment I had realized I was just awake…lying on the bed, gazing at the darkness above me. My head was empty. I felt painful nothingness in my veins. Suddenly I got up, took my coat and left my room. The tiny room I was hiring from an old man. I liked Mr. Mind in a really serious way. He was a cool old man. It was winter-time, when I moved to that house and got to know him. We had already taken to each other at the beginning. I had never seen Mr. Mind during the whole day, but in the early evenings we usually sat together by the reason of drinking some wine. He told me several stories about his life and we generally talked about the world, which was surrounding us. That night I didn’t met Mr. Mind. I was just wondering where he could be…walking the streets near the river of the town and thinking. Everything was covered by the snow. The cold ran through my body again and again. It was so magnificient and freshing feeling. Only me, nobody else. Only standing alone next to to the water, looking at the black sky.

Nothing else…nothing matters.

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Time had passed and I realized, I was still there.

’Now I must go’-I thought, and started to walk home. Home? What a strange expression. What’s the real meaning of that word? –I was wandering and wondering.

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’Where am I? ’asked myself , and my heart slowly became icier than the air.

I was standing there. In front of the place where Mr. Mind’s house used to be. But there was no house. There was nothing. I was afraid and desparateness was crawlig up on my whole presence with a vicious smile on its vicious face.

Darkness…swallowing…drowning…falling…just asked again”Where is Mr.Mind’s house?” and after this question turned to that question: ’Who is Mr.Mind?’ and finally: ’Who am I?’