No Man’s Land



Happiness: If you realize that nobody can fill this emptiness in you, that you alone are responsible for your happiness, then it can be much more pleasant to live.

No Man’s Land, Isis was born there, not to be confused with Peter Pan’s
Neverland. In Neverland you only have to believe in something to make it happen. No Man’s Land is masterless. Isis, goddess of birth and rebirth, like a cat she sneaks through boundless areas always on guard against small sentimental traps that stick to her heels like glue and try to linger. In No Man’s Land one does not believe one exists completely without the protection of a belonging, because this reigns only in fantasies. Little Isis often watched the sky at night when she could not sleep and felt alone despite the other children. She built her own universe of stars and imagined creating independent planets that would belong only to her. With her black round eyes, she painted patterns in the night sky until the puzzle was complete and she finally fell asleep. On Fridays mothers and fathers came to the Catholic orphanage St. Maria, mothers and fathers who consider themselves such and then take a child of their choice with them to their home. Home? A word that sounded strange to her ears and which she still perceives today as something she could only find in herself. This made her invulnerable and she took as she pleased, even though she sometimes broke hearts in the process. Isis conquered with charisma rather through beauty, she had never lost that invincible fiery glow in her eyes with which she once created whole planets.


Unable to leave the orphanage until she was of age and always reminded to be chaste, she had to give up her morality. She wanted to enjoy life the way she liked it, without rules and without a guilty conscience. She searched for sensations that satisfied her and ennobled her divinity. With each man she became even more graceful, with each woman even more sensitive. She literally sucked her lovers out, she let them look deep into her innermost only for a few moments, then left them without saying goodbye. Through all these affairs she learned to deal with different people, to seduce them, to love them, to leave something behind; The uniqueness of the moment.

Isis, goddess of birth and rebirth, like a cat she sneaks through unexplored areas and satisfies one woman after another and fills men with truthfulness, one by one. She can no longer count her affairs, no longer grasp them, she is in No Man’s Land and no one could fill her self-imposed emptiness.


Gilbert, the janitor, was the first boy who fell for her, at that time in the Catholic girls’ orphanage. He watched the young Isis praying with the others in the church and never taking part during the session. He observed the sensitivity with which she was combing the hair of the girls in the flower garden, in order to stick a selected flower into their hair at the end. He watched as Isis carefully prepared her dinner set, how she carefully polished the knife, fork, and spoon and gently placed them on the table. She was always surrounded by a conscientiousness in everything she did. He observed Isis in countless situations, noticing his limb twitching with excitement. He wished Isis would touch him to free him from his agony, the agony of a lover. Gilbert was 30 and thus 14 years older than Isis when he met her and simply could not escape her special beauty. She had long black hair and black eyes to a snow-white skin. Her face was asymmetrical, one corner of her mouth smiled while the other hung down sadly, one eye was awake while the other looked a little blurry. She was bigger than her friends, almost lanky, but not clumsy, quite the contrary, she was elegant, she was special. She was surrounded by an aura as if she had already left several lives behind, as if she had already conquered half the world with her tender youthfulness. But there was something else that distinguished her from the other girls, something that almost made Gilbert lose his mind, it was a deep melancholy that always accompanied her, with all her movements and all the glances they exchanged here and there.


Isis developed a strong longing with the onset of puberty. She felt aroused by all the things that surrounded her; by the texture of the individual strands of hair that she was doing every day in the flower garden, by the girl’s soft voices that left numerous lips during the prayer hour, by her own reflection as she polished the cutlery. She felt her panties get wet and she had to change them several times a day. She secretly bought sanitary towels so that the nuns would not notice her and send her to confession. She found it strange to have to show some remorse for something that seemed natural to her. She noticed Gilbert and how his eyes opened wide every time he crossed her path. She knew he was watching her and she enjoyed the idea of him secretly masturbating and getting lost in fantasies. She knew he was eager to see her mouth receive his mature penis.


…to be continued