The third time I killed my father in my dreams, he died for good.
As a gift and reward, I had a blue dart.
I held it in my hand, scouting the horizon around.
What are you going to do with it? My brother asked.
I don't know, but now I have plenty of time, I said.
Few months later I woke up in Vilnius, Lithuania.
I was performing Summer is not the Prize of Winter at the CCA.
One of the participants came with this blue dart and gave it to me.
What is it for? I asked
To hit the apple that is not there, he said.
I have the blue dart always with me.