Piercing

     A small living creature asleep in its crib. Like a labratory animal in a cage, thought Kawashima Masayuki. He used the palm of his hand to shade the penlight so that it illuminated only the babys form, leaving the rest of teh bedroom in darkness. Leaning in closer, he silently mouthed the words fast asleep. As Yokos pregancy had progressed and the fact that he was actually going to be a father began to sink in, hed worried  that the baby might have difficulty sleeping. Kawashima had suffered from insomnia since elemntary school, and, after all, his blood would run in this childs veins. He´d heard it was normal for newborns to sleep virtually around the clock; in fact, he seemed to recall some child-rearing expert describing sleep as an infants "job". What could be more tragic, then, than a baby insomniac?

Printsessi päevikud X

     Mia Thermopolise nimekiri  suurtest ja rammusatest valedest, mida ta on kõigile rääkinud.
Vale number üks: esiteks on loomulikult vale, et ma kõigisse õlikoolidesse sisse ei saanud. (Seda ei tea mitte keegi peale minu. Ja direktor Gupta. Ja minu vanemate.)
Vale number kaks: minu lõputöö kohta. Noh tegelikult ei olnud see mitte oliiviõli tootmisest Genovias umbes aastail 1254 - 1650, nagu ma kõigile rääkisin, vaid neljasaja leheline armastusromaan.
Vale number kolm: see, mida ma just Lanale rääkisin- et ma ei saa temaga koos šoppama minna, kuna pean pärast kooli John Paul Reynolds-Abernathy IV- ga hängima - kui tõde on hoopis... nojah. See pole mitte ainus põhjus , miks ma ei saa šoppama minna. Ma lihtsalt ei taha sellest talle rääkida, sest ma tean, mida ta ütleks. Ja ma lihtsalt  tunnen, et ma ei suudaks praegu  Lanaga jageleda

Printsessi päevikud IX

     Ma tunnistan, et olen tähele pannud, kuidas riided viimasel ajal nagu kitsamaks on jäänud. Olen kandnud oma stretšteksaseid. Ja rinnahoidjatel kasutanud otsmisi haake. 
     Isegi siis jäävad mulle riietest vorbid ihule.
     Aga kui ma täna hommikul oma lemmikrinnahoidja selga panin, tekkis mulle lausa vormikas  dekoltee, sest see surus mu tissid nii tugevasti teineteise vastu.
     Just nimelt. Mul on tissid, mida kokku suruda. Mul pole aimugi, kust need tulid, aga ma vaatan alla ja seal nad olid. Halloo! Tissid!
     

Sputnik Sweetheart

Why do people have to be this lonely? What´s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning. Looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to neurish human loneliness?

       I turned face-up on the slab of stone, gazed at the sky and thought about all the manmade satellites spinning around the earth. The horizon was still etched in a faint glow, and stars began to blink on in the deep, wine-coloured sky. I gazed among them for the light of a satellite, but it was still too bright out to spot one with the naked eye. The sparkling of stars looked nailed to the spot, unmoving. I closed my eyes and listened carefully for the desandants of Sputnik, even now circling the Earth, gravity their only tie to the planet. Lonely metal souls in the unimpeded darkness of space, they meet,  pass each other, and part, never to meet again. No words passing between them. No promises to keep.