I'll never look back

[Emwe Soul]

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ind//for i bakvendt-land indentind//der kan alt gå an //Emwe Soul tar det siste verset av en sang han ikke kan Emwe's gaze lingered on his brother - he seemed strange. He'd not been the same lately. No one had. Not mommy, and daddy was really weird, and Conor was just not.. so much fun anymore. Maybe it wasn't his fault, maybe it was because Alexey had scared him - maybe she had been really angry at him too? She'd been angry when she found Emwe anyways. It seemed logical to the child, as the dim boy hadn't yet attempted to get his father's attention lately, and thus hadn't really been presented with that problem as much. Alexey came by often enough, and Emwe had so much energy that running in circles and the like could entertain him fine, as long as it made him tired on time. He also did visit his mother sometimes, even if the trip was very very long (which, of course, in fact it was not). Conor had been unlucky, that way. But small people go into small spaces - I doesn't. I doesn't like small spaces, and mommy says I's fat. He had all the symptoms of someone claustrophobic, although he had no idea of what this could be. All he knew was that sometimes the walls tried to eat him, or maybe fall on him or the like, when he was in small places. Of course - it meant that he was too big, and Conor was very lucky! Emwe tilted his head sideways as he listened to the strange question presented to him by his smaller brother. Strange boy. In Emwe's head he was unlucky to be fat, but in reality he was lucky to be daft. Not having approached his father, since he lacked the need for attention that his smaller brother had, he'd not yet been punished by their ill father, and his swinging moods. Um, well I's not talking to daddy so much! It was stated as if it was the most brilliant and fantastic solution to the problem in the world. Perhaps if Conor listened to Emwe more, everything would be allright. //der er de like tøysete og rare alle mann //

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