Bokelskere.no

I’m done. I’m old, I’m sad - that’s on a good day. I want out of this mess. But I don’t want to fade away, I want to flame away - I want my death to be an attraction, a spectacle, a mystery. A work of art.

How did you get so old? Was it all at once, in a day, or did you peter out bit by bit? When did you stop having parties? Did everyone else get old too, or was it just you? Are other people still here, hiding in the palm trees or holding their breath underwater? When did you last swim your laps? Do your bones hurt? Did you know this was coming and hide that you knew, or did it ambush you from behind?

"Du klarer det, Scotty - du er nødt," sa Bennie med sin sedvanlige sinnsro, men gjennom det lett glisne, sølvgrå håret kunne Alex se et skimmer av svette på issen. "Tida er en bølle, ikke sant? Har du tenkt å la bølla herse med deg?"
Scotty ristet på hodet. "Bølla vant."