dear f.

last night I dreamed you cut all your hair off and used it to make a bed in which we made love,
on the facing wall was a mirror and when I came I saw in it that you were no longer with me.
you sat in a chair lacquering your fingernails with green nail polish made out of grasshoppers.
you said: red houses are your wives.
then I woke up because I had bit myself in the shoulder. it was half past six.
otherwise everything is fine, it is cold here but warm enough for an oldtiger.
bye, your friend.

Sjon(from the book of illusions)reykjavik 11.03.'80

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