And after dinner he said, let me go get some cigarettes. She called out to him, take the keys with you. In the meantime I will go to the little lake. He pulled the door shut, went out into the neon light stairwell. It smelled of wax and filth. And on the stairs he thought, what if this was a break-up? I would just have to go for all time. For all time. I have never been to New York. I have never been to Hawaii. I have never been through San Francisco in torn jeans. I have never been to New York. I have never been really free. Being crazy once and fleeing from all constraints. And when he was standing outside on the street, he realized that he was carrying almost everything. The passport, the Eurochecks and some money. Maybe there will be a flight this evening. He could take a taxi there at the corner. Or hitchhike and just go. The longing in him woke up again. Once again full of dream time. Freeing himself from the cramped lift. He thought about his departure. His departure. I have never been to New York. I have never been to Hawaii. I have never been through San Francisco in torn jeans. I have never been to New York. I have never been really free. Being crazy once and fleeing from all constraints. Then he put the cigarettes in and went home like it was natural. Through the stairwell with bean wax and spit. Mom, where are you staying? The show is about to start in the Kika. She asked. Was what? No, what should it be? Nananana I have never been to New York. I have never been to Hawaii. I have never been through San Francisco in torn jeans. I have never been to New York. I have never been really free. Being crazy once and fleeing from all constraints. Nananana