Riding the orange bikes under the plane trees is enchanting! A constant singing, whirring, shimmering, accompanies me. Are the vibrant sounds of the cicadas trying to seduce me? Do the tiny, invisible insects want to listen in to my brain? What message do they want to send? I cycle straight ahead and pedal evenly. They hiss as if they were one big animal! The city lights begin to glow in the twilight. The billboards of small shops flicker in neon lights. Cicadas chirp in the dark. They perch in the plane trees and remain invisible. Have they penetrated my brain? Am I talking to myself … where am I, have houses grown suddenly out of the ground? All these windows behind which people live. What language do you speak cicadas? Are you true companions? Are you whispering instructions and advice? My thoughts whirl. Houses lose their contours at night, streets disappear, shadows merge with their surroundings. The heat remains oppressive. Do you want me to lose control? Never! I pay attention to the traffic lights and vehicles! I will and must think clearly and know what I want, even if I know nothing anymore … I eavesdrop on the cicadas! I’m numbed by their twitching electricity … This stifling heat! Too much dust in the air. Cicadas … I hear you whirring.
