I had a lot of questions in my head. No idea where I was or what to do. Nor how to go on. Nor on which way. Completely disorientated. Not that it bothered me that much; actually, it was quite ‘here and now’.
That’s when I found the shit on the staircase. Because I looked down, not up. I couldn’t believe my eyes: who was this bird – a shitting artist? A typographical wizard creating a new font who knew that it was just about the right place and time to shit something meaningful for me? Was the answer to all my questions – a simple question mark, like a hint from the universe? Like…
… a message from Nietzsche, reincarnated?