Status Updates From Schegge

“Where are you, my son?
I feel you. I know you're out there somewhere.
Why don't you call me?
Call me when you get this.
Or just come back to me. I have lamb and okra waiting for you.
And sauerkraut. Who's gonna eat all this food? I can't do it alone.

I miss you like I would miss a limb.

I need to tell you what I cannot write here.

I'm alone. In the walls.

In God.

Waiting.”

“If something can be created out of nothing by the sheer utterance of sound that gives meaning to it, then the only difference between something and nothing is in the naming. By calling nothing something, nothing becomes something, but the truth remains that nothing really changes in the great scheme of things. The physical constitution of nothing/ something, if it can even be called that, remains the same.”

“But one thing about forcing a life into a story is that you become a character and when the story ends you do, too. I finished my story of escape and it finished me. There is no more narrative to conjure up and make it make sense and hide behind. Now there's just the mess of life.”

"Are you aware that your transit visa is expiring tonight at midnight?"
[…]
"Do you know that failure to leave Croatia tonight at midnight will result in your incarceration and deportation?"
[…]
In the blue-tinted darkness of my room, not being able to fall asleep […] I stared at the broken red numbers of the alarm clock, wondering how a simple thing like 11:59 turning into 12:00 could make a person illegal.

“The night fell on Edinburgh like a blanket over a birdcage and a haze crept into the air and made the lights crisp at the source but blurry on the periphery. The chill put bumps on your skin. Ghosts swirled around streetlights and tangled in your hair. Buildings breathed heavily. […] You could feel how old everything was despite the neon, the cars, and the techno music bumping from basement bars.”