Sex

When you are 38 weeks pregnant the physical becomes a bit challenging to say the least.

You might have to rape your husband to begin with.
Get rid of all your insecurities.
Position yourself so the piles and other pregnancy extras don't show.

Once coitus is successfully established you have to shake the idea that you might kill your child the same way you gave it life, before you actually gave it life proper.

Heavily pregnant sex is as down to earth as sex ever gets.

Yet it has the utmost surreal dimension lurking in the deepest dark as well:

"He touches my feet and I can not breathe. just too intense"

"I do not recall copulating with a horse, but I do have physical evidence to prove it."

"Honey, and I hate myself for asking this, but would you like me to do that?"

Bloody Books

I have this task.
This thing to do.
A question to answer.

How would you get people to read more books? - the Polish executive creative director asked me.

Lovely task. Books are my bread and butter, my cup of tea, my things on my bookshelf.

Well, people would read more if:

You blow up their TV, PC and bin their mobile phones.

You teach them a little line called the alphabet and the magical uses of it.

You bully them by calling them an embarrassment in public places.

You lock them in a room and don't feed them until they read like a fox.

You pay them large sums of money and offer them sexual pleasures.

You make them believe that having a degree will get them somewhere in life and send them off to university, and let the academics take care of it.

You bribe your experts into coming up with a research saying that reading books prevents all mayor illness.

Threaten them with sharp objects and Chinese milk-products.

That was easy enough.

Bright future ahead of me I can see in advertisement.