Just arrived from India. Likes to linger in his frame of blue vines and observes how time passes. No gold is a no-go. The night behind him is made of black mille-feuille silk - that's the least you can expect for the king of the animals, he says. He calls himself Gujarat, Lord of Gir and feeds on shooting-stars and morning dew.
Looking The Other Way
Waddled all the way from Patagonia and knocked on my door this morning. Asked for pink, orange and green, as he was freezing cold. Fell in love with a kitchen towel and wouldn't let go of it, so I gave it to him. This antique frame he carried with him - no idea, where he got it. Likes to flirt with traffic lights, before setting foot on the zebra crossing.
She's always in the fast lane, the good soul. Complains about stress symptoms like rapid heartbeat and insomnia. Is putting out feelers for decelerating forms of life and eats slow food only. Chew well, little snail and don't forget to take your naps!
Watching The Wheels
One sunny day he landed on the rock in front of my house and no one can get him off of it, so I let him be. Feeds on revolutions of the wheels of passing trucks and doesn't talk to anyone but with the flower on the ledge beneath him. He calls her tenderly "My wrench in the works", however, she resists and calls him "Sir". Let's see, how long he can keep up spreading his tail.
In The Mourning
Like all octopi, this one called Heinz, too, changes his color when asleep. Presently, he daydreams with eyes wide open, as can be seen by means of his orange tentacles. During his waking hours, he recites Homers Odyssey and artfully knots his arms together, until melancholia seizes him and he needs to shut his eyes...
If it were up to him, Aghny would like his very own garden. However, to jump the fence from time to time isn't all that bad either, 'cause the grass is greener on the other side, as we all know, so why not? Aghny likes to sniff everything that grows and blossoms while humming the latest Bollywood hits during rumination. Everyone loves Aghny and Aghny loves everyone back. Life is wonderful, isn't it?
I told him again and again, to not look at me that way, but what does he do? Comes in with drums beating and trumpets sounding. The flutter of his eyelashes is just irresistible - stolen from Ryan Gosling, as far as I'm concerned, but that does not prevent my knees from buckling. Once a week he takes a hot bath and goes wild on the bubbles, hoping, an elephant lady strolls by.
Flying To The Middle Of The Earth
This little brat cruises around in my neighbor's cellar vault. His name is Dimitri, his relatives live in Transylvania and warm Swiss foehn winds are severe niggles to his wisdom teeth. Born a dragon in the Chinese zodiac signs, he practices fire spitting in the secrecy of my neighbor's cellar shelves. However, lucklessly, thus far.
Trying To Make Ends Meet
Now, she sneaked 'round the house that long, that I finally let her come in, but only under the condition that she does not swallow the penguin. Thus far, she has behaved like a valuable member of the household should: In the mornings we're doing our stretching exercises together, once in a while she helps me to pick apples in the garden and in culinary regards she prefers spaghetti, she says. I think, she's swell, and so does the penguin.
Yesterday evening, gliding in from a world trip, today already wood-known. She calls herself La Ola and prefers moonlight, pastel colors and clear conditions. She says, there is too little glitter on the bottom of reality and she insists on eating her breakfast with a three-toothed branch fork, for she is of the opinion, a little extravaganza doesn't hurt anyone. La Ola's best friend is the early bird further down the tree, however, that one is only interested in worms. A fatal love triangle, I'd say.
Listeninig To Your Stories
By now, I have completely forgotten when it was that Tortilla showed up here - must be ages ago! Asked about her age, usually Tortilla starts to act coyly. However, after a while she spits out a number around hundred thirty. If you ask me, she looks much younger, but I won't tell her, else she thinks it's all thanks my anti aging creme, which she nicks clandestinely, thinking I don't get it.
After Eating Lucky Clover
What can I say? That's Holi to a T. His mum was a mantis, his dad a chameleon and his buddies in the meadow call him also Holi-Color, about which Holi couldn't care less. Holi, this happy soul, lives in the cow meadow behind the gas station at the end of the yellow brick road. He is vegetarian and pacifist. Feeds entirely on lucky clover. Believes in the power of soap bubbles and can chirp the double top C.