I'm in a house that looks a bit like our summerhouse in Manamansalo Finland. But its in Lusaka, Zambia - its the house I grew up in on Lufubu road 111 (number is not correct). I'm alone in there. I'm perhaps singing, behaving a bit funny. There are lots of colorful flowers in there. I say to myself: "aah! Now I understand why older women make such a fuss about different vases - when you're older you get your own flowers - you're not anymore waiting to get them from someone else."
There are some dried white roses that I'm fingering and looking at. Suddenly there's a knock on the door just next to me. I hide on the floor and creep to the bathroom. There I take of my stupid KING outfit (a big velvet coat and a sort of a hat/crown) and throw it in to a closet. I'm feeling embarrased, a bit frightened and ashamed. I check my reflection in the mirror and discover that I'm wearing tons of makeup, red cheeks and red lipstick - but I have a young mans face (a bit like freddie mercury) with a thin moustache. I seem to bit around 30. That's strange I think as I believed I was a woman.
I keep thinking about calling 112 (911) and repeat my address Lufubu road 111. I sneak back in to the room and see a man in a grey suit looking in through the window. He can't see me. he leaves. its silent again.
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