The gates of heaven have a huge padlock on them and I can’t even read the numbers.

Sure feels like I have come to the right place. I mean it’s all white and sunny here. Smells a bit like vanilla, too. Not the artificial stuff, the real deal. Creamy and pungent. But honestly, who opened this damn cage of mine?

If you don’t like the cage, piss in it. At least that’s what I have heard. If I really did it? I don’t even know who opened that damn door. Sure didn’t smell like vanilla in there, I can promise you that.

Now that I am standing right in front of these metal bars I am contemplating whether I am doomed to be locked into something. Maybe I am locked out of something? Who even decides what is in and out? Do we just vaguely follow the smell of vanilla and see where it’s pleasant? Anyway, beats the hell out of piss for sure.

I can’t really say that the lifeless bodies around me and the terrible stench were really hell. As you might have read, I kind of appreciate the fallen angel, the emperor of the underground. If you haven’t, you can read about it here. So honestly, I don’t even dare to insult that place with comparing it to my cage.

What a life for a metaphysical entity. Do I even belong into heaven if I get there? Am I not doomed to roam forever? I am transient anyway, why do I follow the binary system of humans?

I guess I want to belong. So I make compromises, I choose. I give up my endless freedom for a chance of confined happiness. My god (or whoever has the combination to the padlock) – do I put myself in a better cage?

How does yours look?

Do you have the key?

You know I don’t really like sweet things.

Not in the interpersonal sense, I am very fond of the sweetness when it comes to handling my surroundings. However, when it comes to the digestive system – and even more importantly – to my gustatory system, I am not very fond of the pleasures of sugar. Everyday heroine. Velvet underground understands.

Nonetheless, here I stand. Looking into the glass cage of all the sweet exhibits. Water fills my mouth and I feel stupid for not suppressing my ancient roots. It is the colours that drive me mad. The smell that makes me want to bury my nose. The variety of textures.

Do you know what I am talking about?

I am but a mere observer of these seemingly unearthly pleasures. Yet, they exist among us. Oh, how I have succumbed to going with the ways the universe wants me to go.

I go by excuses but in the end, I am no different. Led by primitive urges and logic, I stare. I wonder, I fantasise. How come such beauty exists in a world of ugliness? How is it even possible to be radiant in the environment of greyness?

My mind is drifting. I become infatuated with the sweet smells. My olfactory senses have become supercharged. I let myself go. I have lost the battle. I am of the inferior kind, forgive me.

It is mad to think that a dense, sweet, plum, ordinary yet extravagant cheese cake can mock me in this way.

What did you think I was talking about?

Blinking lights right in front of me. Is this the landing strip?

Wandering through thick marshland for months. The twigs have scarred my face. Crusty wounds, some infected, some just ugly. Scarred? Only time will tell. My feet are full of mud. I pull heavily, moving forward. My hair is messy, my brain even more so.

Darkness has been the companion, a spiritual guide that does not mean well. If you haven’t seen light in a few days the eyes – entry path for the soul – adapt. The soul isn’t sure whether it is day or night. I was not so sure myself.

I smell wet grass. I see rays of light breaking through the thick wall of trees. The burn, on my skin, in my eyes. Skin as white as paper, getting gently radiated by real, authentic UV rays. How I longed for this radiation only my past self from the last winter can tell.

I step out, ugly. A hunchback with scars. I need to learn how to stand upright again.

A plastic stool. Tiny, almost ridiculously small. An even smaller table. A bucket, full of ice. A beer bottle, cold to the touch, condensation even promiscuously rolling down the neck in thick drops.

Sun shines. A deer hands me some sunglasses. A bird comes by and drops a hat. A bear kicks my back into proper posture.

I take a seat in the ray of sunshine. A turtle comes out from the pond. On its back, a bowl. Hot noodles, coriander.

I slurp, I drink.

A break in a place I know I belong. Can’t wait.

Once these farts leave my brain don’t put a lighter close to my head.

The feeling of a balloon flying somewhere off. Is it truly independent if there’s a string connecting it to the ground? Even if the string goes on forever, is the balloon free?

Surely it is filled with helium. Wanting to burst, filled to its maximum expansion. It strives for greater things, somewhere up there. Away from down there? What is it that makes the sky so appealing? Why do we want to leave the ground?

Ikarus has tried. The Wright brothers did. One melted away, the others were a bit more successful. Now the balloon floats somewhere in between.

Unfortunately, the air is not made of helium and I do not have a string. But I can inhale, try. Yes, make my head expand as big as a balloon. Perhaps I’ll levitate towards the sky?

I’ll update you on my fate.

Float on my friends, can you just hold this string?

Squeeeaaaak.

Slowly I make my way through the masses. Towering over me, the faces of the trotting. I know my destination, I could hurry, just like them. But why bother?

Squeeeeaaaaaak.

My body is limp. I move along the highly polished tiles. Everything blings and costs twice as much as in the free world. Who buys a six pack of Vodka bottles?

Squeeeaaaaak.

My head is facing sideways, my cheeks on the floor. The hands are lazy today, just following the general movement of my snail-like body. I have my house with me, can you see it? It looks like a black suitcase but I promise it is my house, at least for now.

Squeeeaaaaak.

I wonder why no one bothers with me. Here I am, inspecting myself in the mirrors on the floor, worming my way to the next destination. A truly lawless place, ruled with an iron fist. How far can I go?

Squeeeeaaaaak.

One last movement. I drag my face across the tile, lift my bottom for a final push. I have reached my destination, in a weird way. But this is a strange place. Until the next gate opens, I’ll be here, in between worlds. Dragged to my final destination.