World-Wolf - (ENGLISH)

Chapter 24

Don't ask me why I gave my own name to that little one. The matter about time and timelines kindly signed by Duerf Lomo was gnawing my mind. I wondered why a person should not remember the exact moment of his birth. It should be traumatic, birth I mean. Once I heard that when you get your head out you feel the primordial fear for the first time ever.

Anyway, I stayed enchanted - literally - in front of that quadrangular window. Then at some point, Cindy Donclair called me and she said that I couldn't stay there. I hated her profoundly. All of sudden, she didn't arouse me anymore. I even wondered for what kind of reason I had fallen in love with her some minutes ago. Psychopaths stuffs.

"Sorry, Miss Cindy. I thought it was open to the audience."  I made up a lie. In lies field I might get a Honorem degree.

"Yes, okay. Don't worry about that. So, are you lips still painful?"

Cindy with her multicolour eyes - I have to die if Cindy had a brown and a green eye - studied my lips.

"I'm fine. I'm totally fine.  Don't look at my lips. We can't do it in front of everyone."

Cindy was very confused. Then she took the control back.

"I gotcha: you're little bit confused. But it can happen that someone falls in love with a high school boy. You never know what can come next in your life."

Do you know when you feel a sort of heat on your cheek? I felt the same feeling. Cindy made the stamp of her hand on my face. What a burning. The pain at the lips was over just to let space for another pain at the cheek.

"You can go now. Depraved insolent boy. What did you think, huh? That a lady like me could fall in love with a sick, stupid boy like you? You're a deluded. You have to grow up a lot, little boy. A lot."

She showed a Second World War belligerent pose. She was hardened. Was Cindy Donclair a phony or she could void the epithet?

Boys, that one did the moron with her smile and all and now she was telling me that "a lady like her could never fall in love with a sick, stupid boy like me? These stuffs are not for phony people, but for super phony people. Cindy Donclair made the high jump over the bar. Compliment. I was still feeling the ache on my cheek in all that hypocrisy's dose, though.

"I'm going. Don't worry at all. The next time, just don't smile at people as you did with me."

She was pissed off. You could see some smoke from her ears. I exaggerated as always.

I got out from the clinic and I felt depressed again. I wander for a bit and then I stopped at a bar. I had to have a hot chocolate and all and I did it. It revitalized me. The cheek's burning was gone. Chocolate can be miraculous sometimes.

After the bar, I started wandering and whispering that poem which I had heard from the boulevard boy. I called him like that: the Boulevard Boy.

And immediately resumes

the journey

such as

after the shipwreck

a survivor

world-wolf

I really forced my mind to figure out what those words could mean, but nothing came out.

Damn Boulevard Boy.  Couldn't he ask to his teacher what the hell the author intended to express with the poem?

Life is really strange. I tell you that I'm not obsessed with poems. But when I come across the catchy one, it's over. I mean, I can repeat it all day, for weeks.

I can't pull it off of my mind. This happen with World Wolf. I titled the poem like that. The author must forgive me. Seriously. I promise him that I'll make a time travel and I'll ask him if I can modify the poem. First, though, I gotta figure out who is he. Are you hearing me about time travels?

Duerf Lomo... That lively old took my neurons and put them in a furnace. This is the outcome.

A few days and it would have been Christmas, by the way. I can't feel Christmas air since ages. I'm telling you some week of my life. Nothing more. Maybe all December. Then I'll decide at what instant I should stop the tell. Now, I don't want to think about it.

Anyway, there were a lot of lights, small trees, fake Santa Claus like notes printed by County dweller and so on. It's fictional. Even kids knew it nowadays. It's a truth that everybody knows while they are faking not to know it. I give up at once in front of these twisted and complex stuffs.

I did some maths about where I was heading : my formal dwelling wasn't an argument, but there was the wobbly suitcase in it. Let's skip the topic, please. Going to the park it would have been annoying. Gabe was gone. Marion was in Boston. R the Weeder was running away in who knows what land around the globe and I was again in the midst of the County without knowing where to go.

Russovski Oilman if you ever read this damn prose, be aware that you're an authentic bastard. You gotta know what I think about you.

At the end, I chose time travel. I didn't have nothing to do. So, I said to myself that it was better hearing Duerf Lomo. I didn't want to know nothing else about Einstein-Rosen bridge and so on, though. I was curious about what the lively old meant by the sentence "You have to try. You have to transform in black and white ink your world's vision."

I messaged him on WhatsApp and he texted me back almost at the moment. I didn't resist to not see his profile image.

I was almost dying: From the image you could see a frowned Duerf Lomo. He was really upset in that image. Then he got that cigar in his hands and you can't believe about that: a pocket watch was hooked at a button of the waistcoat. I laughed for a while.

In the image he had a hand laid on his side. He used Photoshop or I don't know what to make up the black and white effect. Hell if the photo looked like took at the beginning of the twentieth century. Insane. I didn't download it. I could have shown you.

I was a little bit disturbed now.  Duerf Lomo had said that he came from far away just to meet me. In that moment, I focused on his words. A boredom.

Then I l overthought about them, just a sec more. And I was worry as if I was having a convulsion.

I swear cold drops. Boys, I thought I had just seen Nessy. Christ! The lively old was kidding me.

He knew something of unthinkable about time. I focused my attention on the photo again, and I thought I had already seen the lively old somewhere else.

"Levi, you are focusing too much. Damn it, he's a psychoanalyst and he was trained to fuck people's mind." That was the solution for my anguish.

I did a hell of race like in a rally and I ended up at the old palace. There was Jenny in.

I greeted her and she did the same just to be nice. She told me that Duerf Lomo was in the office. When I opened the door, he was in the same pose of the app's image. I had a spark of genius.

He was the author of the poem; the lively old had planned to put the poem into my timeline.

AUTHOR's SPACE

I feel I'm getting better in the unknown language.

Luca 💙