tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13588545.post-1120311555613863132005-07-02T14:52:00.000+02:002005-07-28T16:36:16.393+02:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">H</span>e was wandering the rainy streets carrying an umbrella in his hand. Fragile weather. He has been thinking about human misery. How man fabricates agglomeration of spiteful utensils out of his weakness. Take an umbrella, for instance.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6115/1200/1600/7-rain.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6115/1200/320/7-rain.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A</span>nd so on he walked as far as he found himself in the familiar street in front of well known house. He was facing the front door, like he had intention to penetrate inside.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"This is Iorp's house. What a nice subconscious drive. Was it Eros or Thanatos?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A</span>nd so on he stood oddly, flipping, playing with his umbrella, in front of the locked doors. Like, he was trying to determine his motivation.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">T</span>hen, lock has snapped, doors had become unbarred. He even heard a somnolent female voice.<br /><br />- Come inside, Istvan. One way or other I've been expecting you. Somehow exactly at this time. A time for hot tea. I know you'd like it. Come inside, serve yourself.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">R</span>astoder hesitated. It seemed that inner struggle between Eros and Thanatos has not been over yet. Though, he gathered enough courage to pass the verge. And while he was entering - it happened. That is to say he tumbled over the doorstep, so his umbrella passed through her negligee and ended between her thighs. Time has halted until their eyes met. Hers was exposed and shamed, followed by an utter with a sigh. His was uncertain, ashamed, waiting for conclusion. And just about when he meant to say "please excuse me", his words were canceled by her gentle bite.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">H</span>is unsealed feelings blissfully arrived from far and wide his entity and focused on burst and placid fit for her divine graces. A kind of magic you can lose your mind of...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6115/1200/1600/8-monika.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6115/1200/320/8-monika.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />- Yes... - Rastoder mumbled while breathing out cigarette smoke. That "yes" echoed through the emptiness of discharged man. A man who ended inner struggle of ethics with an after sex cigarette nirvana.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M</span>onika was just chuckling.<br /><br />- Have a tea. It's still hot, I left it on the stove. I knew that you wont consume tea at first. You know, Istvan, I know something about you.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">H</span>mm?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!-- google_ad_client = "pub-8611827934816256"; google_ad_width = 468; google_ad_height = 60; google_ad_format = "468x60_as"; google_ad_type = "text_image"; google_ad_channel ="2403465966"; //--></script> <script type="text/javascript" src="http://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js"> </script><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13588545-112031155561386313?l=rastoder.blogspot.com'/></div>Istvan Rastoderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182192191600288719noreply@blogger.com0