It was a cold cold night and she was wearing red silk dress with diamonds. She had a crown on her head, no tights only heels. There were no thoughts in her head but void, a deep and profound void. She was staring at the dark sky. That night was RUN AWAY night. It started on a party with filthy rich people being high on sadness, incomplete pleasures and unkept promises. The artificial happiness soaked into her clothes and took away her shattered laughter. That place lacked dreams and future. There was so much sad and fake presence that her caramel smelling lungs were collapsing. She tried to look for anything that could make her happy or give her any sort of pleasure like when she was popping the bubble wrap. Unfortunately apart from white powder, silent crying and old men trying to spread out young model’s legs, there was just heavy smell of mixed designer perfumes. She had to leave, to go to that place her ghosts took her one day. She was desperately trying to call them. ‘Georgie! Martha! Olga?’ It was pointless. They only came when they wanted. Cheeky dead bastards!
Suddenly there was a guy leading her into a bedroom. He started to undress her right away and was looking into her eyes but she couldn’t see him. There was only blank and deserted place, somewhere she dreaded to go. She panicked and bit the man’s lips hard. He swore and called her filthy whore. Quickly she ran away, tired of her own existence, name, face and the past...the past that made her ache because it was so artificial like a very bad theatre play she had to perform every day. She couldn’t even sleep in a natural way. Lies, lies and lies, smashing and stabbing the truth she already forgot.
She ran into the balcony suddenly panicking and feeling unbearably heavy. She started to get undressed. All that diamond heaviness fell on the floor and let millions of moths out to the starless sky. Sudden fresh air made her cough. The innumerable colours were there again and smelled like Sunday morning. Standing naked in the balcony she smiled and brought the rain. She had noticed a cat meowing, trying to climb up to the next balcony. She took the cat into her arms and went to the balcony next door with her. The rain around the stranger’s balcony door turn red, she opened the door and walked in. The room was soaked with warmth, Leonard Cohen’s music and marshmallow promises. A man was sitting in a chair behind the computer, speechlessly looking at her. She, standing there naked with a cat in her arms, smiled gently. All of sudden she remembered her mother saying: The polite thing is to bring a gift when you visit someone. She brought her naked body and the rain of course.