![](https://www.tumblr.com/widgets/share/tool?posttype=photo&canonicalUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.benedikt-eickhoff.de%2Falbums%2Ffckfrgs-habitat%2Fcontent%2Fprose-27%2F&content=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.benedikt-eickhoff.de%2Fkoken%2Fstorage%2Fcache%2Fimages%2F002%2F458%2FIts-just-a-big-urgly-brown-thing-0001%2Flarge.1679808579.jpg&caption=%3Cp%3E%3Cstrong%3E%3Ca href="http%3A%2F%2Fwww.benedikt-eickhoff.de%2Falbums%2Ffckfrgs-habitat%2Fcontent%2Fprose-27%2F" title="All the way to the Main Street"%3EAll the way to the Main Street%3C/a%3E%3C/strong%3E%3C/p%3E%3Cp%3EI+remember+being+able+to+walk+all+the+way+to+the+main+street+and+it%27s+all+gone+now.+It%27s+just+a+big+ugly+brown+thing.+When+I+look%2C+the+houses+are+gone%2C+only+smouldering+bramble+bushes+grow+there+now.+All+the+trees+have+died+and+tufts+of+grass+grow+in+their+place.+%22Am+I+going+crazy%3F%22+I+mutter%2C+turning+my+gaze%2C%0Asecondly%2C+to+the+carpet+in+front+of+me.+Today+it+is+especially+violet%2C+the+sun+warping+its+hue+and+turning+it+into+a+gourd+that+vibrates+its+contours+and+is+seething+with+undertones+of+moldy+magnolia.+I%0Ahate+it.+%22What+am+I+doing+sitting+at+such+a+hideous+place%3F+Even+the+bramble+bushes+will+like+it+much+better.+I%27ll+be+disabled+for+the+rest+of+my+life.+How+I+should+tell+my+poor+father+that+he+was+always+hoping+for+a+son.+Well%2C+that%27s+one+reason%2C+a%0Aminor+reason%2C+to+come+here+anyway.%22+I+turn+away+from+the+vibrations+and+place+the+nozzle+of+a+canister+into+the+field+with+the+symbol+%22C+01%22.+As+soon+as+the+mechanism+has+closed+the+canister+I+jump+up+from+my+seat+and+follow+it+with+my+eyes+up+and+down+the+corridor.+The+entrance+is+at+the+end%2C+so+too+is+the+exit.+I+look+around%3A+there+are+very+few%0Apeople+here.+The+only+person+I+spot+is+a+tired-looking+elderly+woman%2C+stiff%2C+with+a+sour+face%2C+and+the+most+ridiculous+antennas+my+eyes+have+ever+seen%2C+dangling+down+over%0Aher+eyes%2C+like+some+kind+of+parasite.%3C/p%3E){kind=link}
All the way to the Main Street
I remember being able to walk all the way to the main street and it's all gone now. It's just a big ugly brown thing. When I look, the houses are gone, only smouldering bramble bushes grow there now. All the trees have died and tufts of grass grow in their place. "Am I going crazy?" I mutter, turning my gaze, secondly, to the carpet in front of me. Today it is especially violet, the sun warping its hue and turning it into a gourd that vibrates its contours and is seething with undertones of moldy magnolia. I hate it. "What am I doing sitting at such a hideous place? Even the bramble bushes will like it much better. I'll be disabled for the rest of my life. How I should tell my poor father that he was always hoping for a son. Well, that's one reason, a minor reason, to come here anyway." I turn away from the vibrations and place the nozzle of a canister into the field with the symbol "C 01". As soon as the mechanism has closed the canister I jump up from my seat and follow it with my eyes up and down the corridor. The entrance is at the end, so too is the exit. I look around: there are very few people here. The only person I spot is a tired-looking elderly woman, stiff, with a sour face, and the most ridiculous antennas my eyes have ever seen, dangling down over her eyes, like some kind of parasite.