At the end of a story,
there always has to be a dog, 
waiting for the clue
in black and white.

Every day he awaits,
the opening of the door;
that is the essence of his existence.
He waits patiently, eagerly 
only to please
what he does not understand.

After the end of a story,
the dog walks a crowded street, 
not knowing where to go,
or who to live for, 
only knowing the road 
in front of him:
black pavement 
below a white sky.

Every day he awakens 
into a world
he does not understand
chasing cats
to horizons,
where dogs are not allowed.

At the end of the story,
the door closes,
and faces look just the same, 

just too damn gray!

by Malakh