Short Story: Whats App - Lost in Communication
Words: Nataša Cordeaux
Image: Nastasia Alberti
In the physical realm of lines and muscle, he lurks, wishing each moment for the roundness to reveal, but behind glasses, with hairy legs and chipped nails she refuses to photoshop in the dance of human flesh via internet via phone. Instead, she absentmindedly pinches the thick skin of her vagina through her purposefully chosen ‘relaxed’ pants, scratching her head, the hair a day late on the wash, and the radio babbles on about fast food strikers – the McJob and its fertility in today’s world – now it grows, now its worse, now we are all part of the minijob, the minisoul. And then he receives, refutes, three times, that he declares no war of sexual visions, it’s all a ‘bit silly’ – of course he is not about that; perhaps the words in which she touches into existence are her naked pictures, the world exposed through inner thoughts, beneath an exterior, an honesty hidden and submerged in truth. And then he digs his hole, he hasn’t done it in ages, it wasn’t about that – She never started a war, she never said a word, she just stated her position on the board of the game which they are not playing. Stop being so defensive you naked man. And then she winds the clock, rewinding his arrogance into inflammation, over-exaggeration, though not without foundations.