K
“K.”
“What’s K?”
“K is a person, a character.”
“Then who’s K?”
“……”
“We’re K.”
“Was das sein nicht ist…”
“Exactly, exactly!”
“We are talking about the being of us or existent itself?”
“We are drawing an analogy, between us and…”
“Can we?”
“Sorry?”
“Are we devaluating ourselves?”
“We’ve been doing that for ages.”
“Shall we back to the question?”
“Which question?
“What’s the meaning of being?
“For fuck’s sake, it’s a really cheap one!”
“Isn’t it.”
It was the last day of May, 1894.
On the vast expanse of plain, weeds have not yet grown.
My horse stopped, and looked back at me.
Reflected in her eye, flames and air slowed.
I have defeated here,
my palace has been ruined, my crown is long gone.
I can no longer wield my sword, nor can I draw a longbow.
She gave me her last eye,
I saw flames had gone out.
I went to the jeweller, “there is a diamond to sell”,
He touched it so tenderly and muttered,
only phenakites tell.
