Dear Stranger,

I don’t know if you remember me. My name. My face. My smell. I am even not sure that you remember that encounter.

You were waiting for me in a dark. Your face was blank for me.
Your hands held gifts - your hands held tightly. You gave me helplessness. What a valuable gift. What an unforgettable present for a woman. That was the first time I left my body. And later I kept on doing it. I wasn't helpless anymore, but I could not deal with the void inside and I became homeless.

They say the victim attracts the rapist. But I guess that's not our case, is it, honey? You were just a stranger looking for a place to stay. And you were just hungry. I hosted you in silence. In the warmth and innocence of a young body. In an empty basement.
I gave you rest. You passed the sentence. I put the guilt standing like a souvenir on the window. And if you look closely into my eyes, you can still see it there.
They say the victim attracts the rapist.
Maybe you could left something else? But no, honey, I didn't want anything from you. A pill. And I'm definitely empty. I am so empty that you even could hear a tear trickling down the throat and dripping onto the kidney. Drip-drip-drip.

The women approach, sit down on the floor by the hammock, cover their faces with their hands, and greet the guest, praising him and crying. The guest, for his part, is also supposed to cry / / James George Fraser, " Folklore in the Old Testament»

Honey, we should have honored the traditions of hospitality and it was necessary to cry. But we didn't. I didn't cry and I couldn`t cover my face with the hands, because you hold them. I just closed my eyes so that no one would disturb you.
And now all the tears are there, behind the shutters, behind the curtains, behind the skin. Somewhere in the dark.

You're there, too.
You are inside. You inhabited the house and it looks great, but know what?
I am coming home, honey. So please get the fuck out of it.

Hospitality is being open to strangers as being open for the future. But you are not a stranger. You are a parasite. That's why I'm kicking you out. I push you out of me, I spit you out, I suck you out, I squeeze you out. Like pimples, like shit, like phlegm and an unfertilized egg. Sorry for being rude but homelessness is not sentimental.

It's time to make a transition. It's time to feed another cat. I want to give shelter to future life. I feel you are clinging, but it is not possible anymore. Go away and don't look back. The door would be open, but you could not step in - there is no void in me anymore.

I am sunyata and I forgive you.