The following is an excerpt from ‘THE STUDENT BECOMING THE MASTER’, work in progress, 2025, by Ronja Brainstorm.
“I need a yes”, Sina says with eyes like dough. He’s lying in bed with his hands underneath the blanket, I’m sitting in front of him wearing my pyjamas: My pink, velvet Juicy Couture pants and a striped, old t-shirt. I feel like I’m about to get into something I might regret later. “Wait, I have to think it through first”, I tell him and go to his kitchen. I look out the window and talk to myself out loud. “Interesting”, I say, “could be interesting, but wouldn’t it feel better, I mean, good for me as well, if I was really attracted to him and the situation, or is that the whole point why I’d give him my consent? Cause I could watch him, objectively, soberly, as an experiment, have one more story for the books? Or might I be worried I’ll get turned on and want to fuck him, be seduced by him desiring me and then chaos will break loose?.”
I start laughing a bit to myself, then return to the bedroom. “Sina, I’ve decided that I don’t want you to masturbate in front of me”, I say, standing at the end of his bed. I can see his hard dick through the blanket. “No problem, but then at least give me your dirty underwear”, he says, and I leave the room again to think about this new idea of his. I stand in front of my suitcase in the living room, looking at the plastic bag where I keep my used panties, safely, zipper bag, ready to go through a vacuum sealer, dirty, pussy-juice-infected underwear stay away! I think about how B. once told me he didn’t like the smell of my pussy and I love Sina a little bit for directly asking for it. “What if he won’t like the smell either? Is that what I’m afraid of?” I say it out loud to myself, then open the zipper bag and fetch yesterday’s undies. I go back to the bedroom; Sina’s still waiting. “Knock yourself out,” I say and throw them at him before I leave the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
“Your panties weren’t at all dirty enough”. Sina emerges from his bedroom 10 minutes later, all red in the face, body posture like when a dog is looking you straight into the face while taking a dump. “They just smelled clean”, he continues and puts his arms around me. “It’s because I’m on my period. I’m basically wearing diapers these days. Maybe I should have fetched my used one out of the trashcan and given that to you instead?”, I say, “That would have been much better”, Sina says, shaking his head, disappointed. I suddenly feel sad not to be a tampon-girl, cause then I could have him change mine like in that Miranda July book I’m reading. Would I have Sina change my tampon, though? Maybe he’s really too nasty, and I’d need someone more Davey-like for that action, at least to begin with. Davey is the character in the book who the main protagonist, the narrator, falls in love with. He’s sweet and young and bright and, sadly, married, so Miranda and him never have sex or kiss. In one scene, though, Davey changes the tampon of Miranda, sitting on a toilet, her sitting on top of him, with her back turned against him. Ever since I read this, I’ve been contemplating who I’d have to change a tampon for me. It would probably have to be someone like Davey, not Sina, he’s way too wild, no, I’d definitely need someone normal, with a normal job and a savings account and a credit card and a driver’s license. And a future. Someone white.
Sina and I are lying next to each other in his bed, I’m dipping my thumb into a glass of water cause I just burned my finger while pouring boiling water into my heating bottle. I always sleep with a heating bottle during winter. It’s four o’clock in the morning; we’d returned home about an hour ago, after having had a chaotic evening out in Berlin. “Oh, you burned yourself, baby”, Sina says, his arms around me. “Give me your thumb”. He puts my thumb in his mouth, then pulls it out softly and blows on it. It soothes. “Do it again”, I say, and I look at how his lips embrace my finger tightly, look at how his mouth shapes as he blows his soothing breath onto my skin. “Again”, I whisper, and while my thumb is in his mouth, I start kissing his face, moving my lips towards his. We start undressing, still managing my thumb-burn: Finger into the cup of water, then into Sina’s mouth, he blows on it, and another piece of clothing is pulled off. I’m all naked now, and Sina starts fingering my ass, wow, what an interesting place to start, most men go directly for my clit, or at least they try to, but this is new. “Fuck me in spoon”, I demand of Sina, as I turn my back against him and push my ass up against his hard dick. “I’m not gonna fuck you without a condom”, he says, “you’re not my fucking girlfriend”, he then gets up to go find a condom, and I feel rejected and safe at the same time. Like, is this a case of the Madonna/whore-complex, and it’s what’s saving me from ending up with another horrible STD and/or bladder infection, and/or pregnancy-scare. Scared to be impregnated by Sina Khani, ugh, what a nightmare!
“And also, you don’t decide in which position we’re fucking”, Sina says and leaves the room. He comes back a minute later with a condom on his dick, then lies down next to me and pushes me away from him, roughly, then pulls me back towards him and thrusts his dick into my pussy, starts fucking me like I told him to. I like it like this and don’t want it to stop, kind of melt. He then turns me on my belly and keeps penetrating me, holding my hips, pulling me towards him so I end up on all fours. I love this position, it’s always what I’m looking for whenever I want to jerk off to porn. Sina leans over me and kisses my shoulders and my neck, then slows down his pace, and whispers in my ear: “Break”, he pulls himself out of me tenderly and lies down on his back. I’m all soft and happy next to him in bed. “I’m your submissive, little puppy girl now”, I say to him, sticking my tongue out of my mouth, imitating a silly little dog. “Yes, I fucked the bossiness out of you”, Sina says, and it makes me think of F. and how much of a turn off it was for me that he’d called me bossy, probably because my bossiness was a turn off to him, but Sina decided to swim in it, play with it, use it, then turn it into wilful devotion towards him. And it worked.
He sure did fuck the bossiness out of me. The same kind of skilled mechanic he’d made use of hours earlier in a bar, right before we both lost control and got caught up in a nasty fight with each other. We were sitting around, quietly observing what was going on around us. The place seemed like a hybrid between a club and a bar really: Very high ceiling, a chaotic mix of people on drugs, a DJ in the shape of an older guy with long, thin hair and a leather west. “Nice place for an LSD trip”, I said to Sina, but he didn’t react; he was busy with his own thoughts. I then made the impulsive decision to leave our table and go engage in a heavy flirt with some random Italian guy, leaving Sina alone, looking out for my suitcase. I’d gone from Leipzig to Berlin that very day, suitcase packed for a few days at Sina’s.
I don’t know how long I left him to his own company, but apparently, it was too long. At one point, Sina came to the Italian and I, asking me to look out for my suitcase while he went to the bathroom. “Sure”, I said, then turning to the Italian again who was getting me all juicy with his aggressive flirtation. “What are you doing with that guy?”, the Italian asked me in his thick accent. “He’s not giving you any attention. If I was the one lucky enough to have you by my side tonight, I wouldn’t be able to take my hands off you”. He then pulled me towards him and I felt his hard dick in his pants against the lower part of my belly. In that moment, Sina came back from the bathroom, seemingly furious. He crudely slapped the Italian’s hand away from my back, then pushed him away from me. “Oh, come on, who could resist a beautiful girl like her?”, the Italian asked Sina, making the stereotypical Italian arm gestures, then attempted to hug Sina. “Get away from me”, Sina said. “You want her? Then let’s talk business.”, he then made a gesture towards the table. “Go sit on that chair, baby”, Sina instructed me, pointing at the chair he wanted me to sit on. I followed orders and sat down. Sina then sat down next to me and looked at the Italian, who was still standing around, obviously unsure what to do with himself. Sina helped him out, “Come sit here next to me”, he commanded of the Italian, who then went to sit on the other side of Sina. I leaned back on my chair, curious to see what would happen next. Sina took a sip of his foamy whiskey sour and leaned back in his chair as well, looking straight at me. The Italian looked at Sina with a silly look on his face.
“Do you love this girl or do you want to spend the night with her?”, Sina asked the Italian, “Look at her, blond hair, big breasts, blue eyes, an Arian master piece, Hitler would have been proud.” Sina pulled my hair, it hurt a bit, he made a grouchy face and pulled so hard I had to tilt my head back, I pretended not to like it, and looked straight at the Italian’s confused eyes at the same time. “She’ll blow you for 300 Euros, a whole night with her is 500”, Sina continued, “No, 1000 Euros for a whole night”, I interfered, still looking at the Italian, whose whole entire body posture was changing, you could see the insecurity take over, his dick must have gone soft by now. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m your fucking pimp”, Sina told me, and I went quiet. “It’s 300 for a blowjob here in this bar, 500 to take her to your hotel room. You can Paypal half of it now, half of it later”, the Italian attempted to make some kind of joke. “It’s not a hotel, it’s an AirBnB!” I could hardly hear his words through the lights, the music, and the chaos, drowning man. “And if you fuck her and don’t pay the second half right away afterwards, I’ll send my friend Harry to your AirBnB”, Sina continues. I was impressed. What a way to turn around the power dynamics, turning his jealousy into acting. Had Sina come up with all of this while he was in the bathroom, or was it all happening completely impulsively? Also, why did I like to be put in this position, where I’m suddenly Sina’s property, the unmasked femme fatale? This side of me has been sleeping for a long time. I used to identify immensely with it, but in this moment, she’d taken over, Sina had understood and knew how to handle her. My feminist friends would be ashamed of me, and I was warm and wet.
The Italian left the table, his friends saving him from the situation by wanting to leave the bar to go to some club. “But I could have you for free, right?”, the Italian whispered in my ear as we said our goodbyes. I giggled, “Ok, but don’t tell Sina about it,” I said and gave him a kiss on his scratchy cheek. I then turned to Sina, still quite sure that what had just happened was all an act, fun and games. But I was wrong. “A complete turn off”, Sina yelled out, “this is over, you’re not sleeping at my place tonight, call your fucking friend Katja”. I was shocked. And confused. Is he still acting? “But I thought our thing was that we’re free enough to do whatever we want”, I told him. “And also, you literally just told me earlier that you never get jealous”. “I’m not jealous, I’m disappointed”, Sina replied. “I was suffering, sitting here alone, watching out for your suitcase, with a full bladder, you have no idea how much I had to pee, my god! AND I was bored, nobody was texting me, not even Edo, I didn’t get a single notification!”, “Jesus Christ, that sounds AWFUL, sitting here all alone with a full bladder”, I yelled out, sarcastically.
Now I was the one who was getting angry. “Well, you come here to Berlin and try to make me jealous?” Sina said. “I did not try to make you jealous, I was just bored by you going on and on about yourself and how great artists you and Tarik are! And so I decided to go for the fun for a second”, I said, “30 minutes!”, Sina bursted out, “I was sitting here for 30 minutes, waiting for you to finish off with some Italian Airbnb-bro!”, I couldn’t help but laugh at this, heartedly, I had to appreciate Sina for still dropping funny lines like this, even in a place of anger and frustration. “And you were obviously trying to make me jealous”, Sina continued, “which is not working, ’cause I don’t have any emotions for you. I just met you, and already you’re starting to play games, super fucking toxic. It’s mediocre female toxicity, and it’s nasty and not sexy. I’m not gonna fuck you tonight.”, Sina was now looking at me with drunk eyes. “Oh please Sina, fuck me! My whole world will fall apart if you don’t fuck me tonight! I’ll be crying miserably all night cause I won’t get your dick!”, I yelled out, Sina was now putting his face in his hands. He looked up again, saying, “That’s the cheapest kind of sarcasm I’ve ever heard. I’m a comedian, sarcasm is my middle name. Sina Sarcasm Khani, okay? And turn that fucking thing off, this is over”, he then took my phone out of my hands, I’d been filming his freakout the whole entire time.
Sina is running around his apartment looking for a second condom. I’m hoping he won’t find one, it would spare me a discussion and/or negotiation. It’s now five o’ clock in the morning, and I’m naked and tired, and my thumb still hurts. Sina comes into the bedroom again, also naked, and looks in his cupboard to see if there might be a condom in there. “Tomorrow, you’ll go get condoms and then you fuck me in the ass”, I say to him, well knowingly that this turns him on and frustrates him at the same time, he’s definitely an ass man, it’s written all over him. I get up and start putting my pyjamas back on. “Ok”, Sina lies down again. Fully dressed, I put my head on his chest and wrap my leg around his body, my favourite cuddle position. I smell his neck. I love smelling the necks of my lovers. All of my lovers smell different. Sina smells like some kind of Middle Eastern herb; it might be cumin. Or turmeric. “M is my intelligent lover, N is my tender lover, and you be my rough lover”, I tell Sina, and he agrees, “Ok, I’ll be your rough lover. I’ll punish you when you’ve been bad, award you when you’ve been good”, “Have I been good now?”, I ask him, “No, you’ve been bad you cunt, who the fuck do you think I am? I didn’t come yet, how dare you?”, he says, and my mouth fills with saliva, I smile, “Ok I’ll be a good, normal girl and lick you until you come”. I move down to taste his dick.
Sina’s dick is average size, about 16 centimetres I’d guess, it’s slightly crooked, not much, let’s say 5-10 degrees. He’s circumcised cause this dick is Persian, the skin tone a dark shade of flesh. There’s a large vein on the front of his shaft, creating a small bump that I enjoy sensing when I move my lips up and down, back and forth, the vein subtly tickling my upper lip. His penis head is kind of beautiful, smooth and without any moments of negativity, like small spots or pimples or anything like that. He’s secreting more pre-cum than I’m used to, which pleases me, I like to see the small, shiny drops break out of his tiny hole like pearls out of a mussel, as I wrap my hand around his dick and move it up and down. I spit on his penis head and look him into his eyes before I swallow his hole entire dick, it tastes like skin, I let his full bush around his crotch tickle my chin and my nose. I then suck him until he comes. I don’t swallow, but spit his cum into the thumb water in the cup next to the bed. This is an interesting automatism, cause normally I always swallow. But in this moment, I don’t want to, and I can’t think of any other reason besides just not wanting to. “Haha, the poor cup”, Sina giggles a bit post-orgasm, and I’m relieved he doesn’t question my not swallowing. “Good girl, though”, he then tells me and kisses me, “You’re completely forgiven for making me jealous earlier”.
I’m doing my make-up in Sina’s bed, getting ready to go to the theatre. I’m gonna go to the Volksbühne to see a performative reading by Lydia Haider. Sina doesn’t want to join, says he’ll only go to the theatre to see a Florentina Holzinger piece and that Lydia Haider is just an out-dated copy of Florentina Holzinger. Sina has a personal story with Florentina Holzinger, which obviously makes him less objective, and I’m pretty sure he’d be interested in Lydia Haider as well if she’d been the Austrian artist staying with him for a week, drinking, talking, and kissing. Sina is an opportunist and therefore needs to know he’ll somehow benefit from other people and their work, otherwise he’s not interested. This is also why he’s now interested in my work, cause he knows I’ll write about him. He knows that spending time with me means he’ll play a part in my work, which gives him a sense of importance, a sense of meaning. He’s been involved in a film project for the past two years. Creeps from the Middle East, it’s called. It’s an ongoing series about Sina’s own life. He’s told me how that project served him like a big, soft pillow: No matter how tragic his life would be, everything could and would always be used in the film. And I relate immensely with this attitude. “Even my own death would serve me, ’cause then I’ll die on camera, which would be the end of the series, the final episode”, he’s told me proudly. The production team had a fallout with Sina, then quit him altogether, quit the Creeps. Sina didn’t get to die on camera this time after all, and he stopped living in a movie, started feeling depressed and lost in his own reality.
But he immediately understood how I myself am constantly looking for new content for my work, which is why I went to Berlin to meet him in the first place. We’d connected on Instagram because of a mutual interest in each other’s work, and one week later, I went to Berlin to meet him, then ended up spending a whole weekend with him. We didn’t fuck the first weekend, but we did the second, this weekend. Sina is more than happy to be my content, my subject matter, my muse, cause it’ll give his life new purpose and meaning. He has the spirit of a true artist, like me: Forever searching, constantly creating even if he’s not, always looking for the next project, the next expansion of vision, the next opportunity, the next wave splash.
I don’t know them personally, but I know that both Florentina Holzinger and Lydia Haider are like this as well, all true artists are. We have to be, everything has the potential to be interesting, and everything can be sacrificed for the purpose of creation, even our own dignity. Everything is as interesting as one decides for it to be. Add your own meaning, stir the pot, enjoy the chaos, and record the whole entire apocalypse while it’s going down.
Sina’s lying next to me in bed, watching me brush up my face in front of the round mirror I’ve placed up against some pillows. “The girl wants to go out tonight, but I don’t”, Sina’s telling his friend A. on the phone. “The girl’s name is Ronja”, I say loudly, A.’s on speaker. Sina hangs up and turns to me. “I’m worried I might get a double chin”, I tell him, and show him just how double-chinny my chin can get. “It’s a part of life”, Sina says, “look, I have one too”, “I know you do, baby”, I say, and turn to my own reflection in the mirror again. “A. even has a tripple chin”, Sina adds, “Yikes”, I say, “The horror!”. “When will we have anal sex?”, Sina asks me, as I put on lip-gloss. “Hmmm.. when I’ve been a bad girl and need a good punishing?”, I ask him, looking at my own lips, smiling. I slowly smother the lip-gloss on my mouth, back and forth while I continue talking, “First, you have to get me all wet and silly and warm and juicy, then you first fuck me in my pussy, then in my ass, and if it hurts too much, you stop and fuck me in my pussy again, really roughly, punishing me for being such a stupid, little, sensitive girl”, I feel a tickle, am turned on by myself, how nasty and seductive I can be, I look at my glossy lips in the mirror. “But you’ve been a good girl”, Sina tells me and strokes my hair. “I know, I’ve been very good”, I tell him, as I get up and walk out of his bedroom, slowly, well knowing he’s checking out my perfect ass as I leave the room. He follows me, am satisfied by my own irresistibility. I stand at his door with my back turned against him, he’s now taking photos of me. I twerk for him and his camera, look over my shoulder, and smile at him, enjoying this objectification; being looked at this way makes me wet and happy. He puts his phone away and takes one step towards me, then puts his arms around my waist, we kiss, “Let me lick you just a bit”, I tell him, “Say please”, he says, “Let me lick you please”, I say, then turn around and slide down his body until I’m on my knees. I open his pants and look up at him while I taste his dick and start drooling, luscious, hungry, nasty, he loves it, of course, I kinda do too.
I take off my clothes and go to the bedroom. Sina’s putting on a condom. I want him to fuck me doggy style, and he does. I love it, I’m thinking about how I look from his perspective and wish we had a mirror, then melt into the energy bursting from my pussy. “Do you want me to come?”, Sina asks me as he’s turning me around to fuck me missionary, “Yes, please come for me, baby”, I say, and he breaks down in pleasure on top of me. “Be a good girl and give me one of your vanilla blowjobs today”, Sina tells me the next morning. “I want you to suck me like you love me, like it’s our wedding day today” he continues. “Oh yes, it’s our wedding day today, yesterday was our wedding!”, I say, excited. “Yes and our grandmothers had a fist fight!”, Sina says and I laugh, “Yes and it freaked both of us out!”, I say,. “No”, Sina says. “We were cool about it.”
“Ok, but then my mom freaked out about it, cause she doesn’t like my grandma to interact with other grandmas in general”, I say, take my computer and leaving the bedroom. “You have one hour to write about sex with me”, Sina tells me, and I go find a nice spot in a window frame to write all of this down. “And no alias; use my real name!” Sina shouts at me from the bedroom. “Done!” I yell out exactly one hour later, “And it’s exactly one o’ clock!” I smile at Sina, proudly. “Yes, I checked, exactly one o’clock”, Sina confirms. “So I’ve been a good girl?” I ask Sina. “Yes, you’ve been a very good girl- Less punishment and more reward for you today. Now read out loud to me what you’ve written”.
Sina and I are going out for a drink; we both need a change of scenery after having spent the whole day in bed, writing. “One drink”, I say in the U-Bahn. “A drink”, Sina says. “A drink means several drinks”, he explains. “Yes, but I said ONE drink”, I say. “One drink means one drink”. Then we phoned Tarik. We’re trying to convince him to play a role in my master project. After ten minutes of brainstorming with Tarik, Sina and I are both riding a wave of renewed energy. Excited and stimulated, we walk into a random bar. It’s a lesbian bar called Silver Future. “Shit, the bartender in here hates me, lets go sit in the back, so she doesn’t see me”, Sina whispers at me, “Omg, why do all bartenders in Berlin hate you”, I say. It’s not the first time we’ve been to a bar and had to hide away from the bartender. We have known each other for two weeks.
“Tarik’s definitely in; you should do a shared post with him and I”, Sina says, and I go get us a new round of drinks to celebrate. A large woman dressed in black is sitting alone at the bar, chain-smoking while drinking a cup of tea. I’m thinking she must have some interesting stories to tell, the devastating life experience is all over her smoke-shrouded face. I ask her why she’s drinking tea and she doesn’t really react, just stares at the coffee machine behind the counter. She looks very sad, depressed, but kinda normal at the same time, just like weighed down by the apathy and cynicism that might hit us all one day if we keep feeling like we’re losing in life. I go back to Sina with our drinks, “I think that woman must have some good stories to tell”, I say to him, “Yes, but she’s not ready to talk yet”, Sina says, and I know he’s right, but I’m impressed by how he’s able to tell from where he’s sitting. “Or she’d start open up and let everything out and we’ll never get rid of her again. It would ruin our night! You can talk to her when you’re bored, but you won’t be bored, cause you’re with me, Sina fucking Khani”, he continues. I keep waiting for him to finish that sentence off with a laugh or a twink, but it never comes. Apparently, it wasn’t a joke. “Let’s go sit somewhere else, I hate these lesbian chairs”, Sina says. At the new table, Sina keeps wanting to change seats with me cause he’s distracted by whatever’s happening around us. He says he prefers to look at me in front of the plain wallpaper in the background, which I find flattering. “Why does this man keep walking around?” Sina says, which makes me laugh, “He’s been to the toilet like 3 times since we sat down ten minutes ago”. Sina’s getting another beer, and I’m starting to feel tired. My one drink has turned into three. Sina returns and starts talking about Florentina Holzinger again; he’s drunk now, drunk and nostalgic. An Indian-looking man with a basket of samosas, a bouquet of roses, and a polaroid camera comes into the room. “Wow, normally these guys only offer one of those services. But this man does the full programme”, Sina says, and I jump off my chair, “Come on, let’s recreate the photo you have of you and Florentina on your fridge!”, we get up and I give my best Florentina Holzinger-look as the photographer clicks his camera.
The photo turns out perfect, and Sina and I get busy posting it in our Insta-stories. “Ronja Brainstorm – the next Florentina Holzinger?” Sina writes in his post, and we both laugh about it. Sina goes to get another beer, “The last one”, I tell him, “I’m tired”. He comes back and start baffling on and on about Florentina again: “In terms of network, she’s in the highest category there is for me”, and, “I really respect her”, and “If it wasn’t for that Austrian, fucking mountain-Nazi of a boyfriend she has, we’d be doing great things together. And he doesn’t even fuck her!”. Sina’s now sitting less straight, hunching his back, his hand around his beer, a sad look on his face. I’m now both tired, bored and irritated.
“I want to go home now”, I say to Sina, who then instantly looks up, staring me straight into the eyes, “No”. After having discussed if we’re leaving or not for what feels like ages, I find myself outside in the cold streets with Sina, furious. He’s given me the task of finding out how to get to his place and I’m running around trying to find the right bus stop while Sina’s being of no help at all. “I’ll order us an Uber, but you have to pay. Also I want to go to the Späti and get us some beers”, he rambles, “Ok, fuck it, I’ll pay the Uber if you promise to shut the fuck up all the way home!”, I say it and I mean it, “Do you have some cash for my beers?”, he then asks, “Do you really need three whole beers?”, I ask him in the Späti before I throw 5 Euros at him, whatever, here you fucking go. In the Uber Sina wants to listen to music, but the driver is trying to tell him that it’s not possible because of something about the Bluetooth connection. Sina apparently doesn’t get it; Sina needs the music now. Any music, apparently. “Sina, it doesn’t work, not possible for you to connect your phone!”, I say to him, “You remind me of my ex-girlfriend, she was always like that, what a bitch”, Sina sneers at me, and I go quiet cause it seems like the only right thing to do at this point. “Is that man really 42?”, I think to myself and stare out the window. “Alles gut?”, the Uber driver asks me through the rear window. “Jaja, alles gut”, I reply.
We catch eye contact in the mirror for a second. Brown, warm eyes underneath a heavy blanket of brow. I let my eyes wander to his fingers on the wheel. They look quite large, hairy, I’m thinking three of those would fit well into my vagina, fill me up, tickle my g-spot, while his other big arm holds me tight into his body, and he whispers in my ear “Alles ist gut, alles ist gut”, over and over and over again, until I collapse in pleasure. Ahmed, my Arab protector from the Persian lunatic next to me. Sina doesn’t even have a driver’s license, but Ahmed knows how to steer a wheel, look out for the ladies and finger them until they don’t know any other words besides his name. “When are you leaving tomorrow?” Sina is asking me, and I look over and see him sitting with his phone up against his ear, playing music, Mockery of The Quran by Mohsen Namjoo. Am I about to get caught up in some kind of religious fight? Could it get any worse than this? I roll my eyes, “As early as possible”, I say, and I look out the window again. “Yes, leave as early as possible, please. I’m done with you”, Sina says, his voice echoing with drunk viciousness. Arriving home, I go straight to the living room to get ready for bed. I hear Sina putting on music in the kitchen, opening another beer, and turning on his radio. “Come to the kitchen, honey. Let’s make peace. I just gave the Uber driver one star, and now I feel so much better”, Sina says, coming into the living room. “No, I don’t want to, I want to go to bed”, I say, and he leaves again. On the couch, I take out my computer and open this document. I start writing a letter to N:
Dear N, What a fucking chaos here. I’m constantly dancing on a whole new spectrum, between trauma-activated anger, drooling desire, and endorphin-releasing inspiration. I guess it could be called the Sinja-spectrum. It’s 01.42 in the night, Sina is in the kitchen cooking himself dinner, I’m on the couch in the living room with the heating bottle pressed up against my vagina. Sina was acting like a fucking asshole again tonight, I only know him since two weeks, but I think it’s safe to say that he has an alcohol problem. Anyway, I don’t really care, I think our professional relationship will live on regardless; maybe it’ll even benefit from this nasty volatility of his. Tomorrow I want to go back to Leipzig and keep on working. I like that Sina sees my drive, that he understands that I need to work, and that everything is kinda like work to him as well. I think you understand this too N, but in a different, less penetrating way, literally. Anyway, I’m tired and irritated and want to sleep now. Should I watch something? I’m not sure.
I’m interrupted as Sina opens the door again. I knew this would happen. “Baby, let’s make peace”, he says, and I look at him from behind my computer. “You’re the one who’s been acting like a fucking asshole towards me, so that’s on you now”, I tell him, and he goes to sit down across from me on the couch. “You have to always be on my side, and you weren’t in the Uber before”, Sina explains, and I scoff, “I don’t have to always be on your side at all, and nothing happened in the Uber before, what are you talking about?”, I tell him, have zero sympathy left for his bullshit at this point. “I wanted to listen to music, and you were not helping me out with that, but plotting against me with the Uber driver.”, Sina continues the madness, and I can’t help but laugh a bit. “That’s ridiculous”, I say, and I literally don’t know what to add to that. “Is this your way of making peace with me?” I then ask him. He has a wild look in his eyes now. “My ex-girlfriends were never on my side, and I need someone who’s unconditionally on my side! Even if I’m wrong in that moment, which I mostly am, especially when I’m drunk. I’m not stupid, I’m just wrong!”, he says, and starts walking around the living room, laughing at his own jokes. I remain on my back with the computer on my belly. Sina keeps walking around the living room, repeating his last sentence, laughing about it for himself: “I’m not stupid, I’m just wrong, I’m not stupid, I’m just wrong…”.
I take a deep breath. “All of that is completely irrelevant information to me, ’cause I’m not in this to be your potential girlfriend. My interest in this relationship is first and foremost based on artistic purposes. So you don’t have to think of me as a potential future partner. Cause I for sure won’t be”, I tell Sina, and he comes to sit across from me on the couch again. “I’m the most interesting thing that ever happened to you, you need me much more than I need you, without me you’re just a boring, normal, white art whore from a bourgeoisie, Neo-liberal, Danish family. Sieg Heil!”, Sina says, and I can’t help but laugh again, the absurdity of it all. The look in his eyes is now of complete and utter poison, poison pointed at me. “Leave me to sleep now, Sina. And don’t come in here again”, I tell him, and he leaves. Thank God. “Baby, good morning. I’m so sorry about last night.” I open my sleepy eyes and see Sina standing at the door again in the new daylight. “Come to bed”, Sina tells me. “No, you can come here”, I say to Sina, and he comes to lie down on his back next to me. I put my head on his chest and wrap my leg around his. “I sleep so well here, it’s strange”, I say to Sina in a soft, crispy morning voice. “And it really is strange to me, ’cause there’s so much happening here, and you’ve been so mean to me, sex and drama, your insanity, but then I just sleep like a baby at night. Usually, I don’t sleep well at other people’s places, even if it’s my best friend’s”, I explain. “It’s because you have everything you need here”, Sina says. “You have the art, the drama, the inspiration, the stimulation, everything you need in order to be productive”. I am quiet for a minute, let it sink in. I feel Sina’s heart beating underneath his warm chest. “Is that so?” I ask, inhaling the smell of his neck. “Yes Ronja, it is so. I’m good for you”, Sina says, then tightens his embrace around my sleepy body. “I’m a good boy”.
