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       At first: I was only a temporary way out of a desperate situation: a flimsy patch. But
after a week: when I came to hand in my work clothes and collect my wages: the strict manager
raised her head from the table and gave me a brief: genuine look: "you don't rest a lot."
       "An hour is enough for me."
       "You did one hundred thirty seven:" she said almost appreciatively: wiping the crimson
corner of her pouty mouth with her little finger.
       "I was happy to help."
       "Here's a six-month contract with all the benefits:" she added and turned the computer
screen towards me: "please sign here."
       I thanked her: wrote my name: and threw myself back into the rustling ocean.
       
       The unmistakable atmosphere of the Hotel Orfeus on Lyra was created by sheets      and
carpets in twelve shades of azure: large windows directly into the cosmic night       and the
mysterious scent of fabric softener.
       Opening the door and taking a step forward was like entering a world promising all the
most beautiful adventures and romantic experiences at once. 
       That's what I felt. 
       Sometimes: when the guests spent the whole night at the Lunapark:   or for some reason
did not come and the beds remained untouched:   I locked the door and slipped under the duvet
for a while (once or twice I could not resist and left only the small ear buds on)  for a mi-
nute I flew back to the time: when my life was beginning and everything was open.
       All roads were waiting for my feet.
       And all the choices offered me their palms: "come on handsome."
       "I am leaving already:"  I shouted: put on my yellow football boots and jumped out the
window into the hot summer garden..
 
       In addition to melodies  of all genres:  guests of all colors  and fellow maids:  with
whom we passionately discussed the resistance of stains  and splashes  and the talent of some
people to leave behind a natural disaster  - I was daily accompanied by the most diverse voi-
ces from many recordings of lectures and audio novels.
       :Snaut: Kris and Harey from Solaris: hugging life from Buñuel's biography: flying dra-
gons from the latest theories about atomic composition  and the origin of the known universe:
steam starships: underwater melons: Christine..
       Plus the adolescent baritone of my constantly speculating and fabulating consciousness
with its immediate chains of elemental suppositions.
       And all of it together:  and work and work and work: slowly filled my empty chest with
a young heart: that beat loudly for new love.