Oh Galog! Silverdress! No other child in class has made their school uniform from tinfoil. And the rest actually do go to class. Again, you are different from them.

In the alleyways are hopscotch highways far livelier than that chalky zygote in the playground. Just watch out for the Kraken asleep in the heap of old newspapers. He sleeps outside the backdoor of a bakery so he has brioche for breakfast. Once, he was a proper newsman but now he reads yesterday's news from his bed. He is grumpy, and smells of congealed butter.

Climb inside the skip, Galog, you strange thing. Its panels knock, as if compressed by the deep strongman fathoms of an ocean trench, but these are just the noises of startled rats who don't trust you, yet. Dig like heartburn, dive like a whale. The garbage is incredibly deep.

There is Atlantis on the torn page of a comic-book! Feel the squishy tentacles of the blue-ringed spaghetti octopus. Now I cannot see you, Galog, Crinklefoil, Scuba Mush, the bin-lid has gulped and you are 20, 000 banana skins beneath the surface.


I wait and I wait.


The school day has ended.


Jonah! Maybe I encouraged you too much.



- Zwart Malien