After having let go the hope that my train would literally collide with a passing freight train containing a shipment of carebear baby blankets, thus ending the never-ending doubt and despair, I began to realize that I was literally taking a step into a world where morals and ethics had remained on the same level as sixty years ago. An overall grey population graces every corner of the street and even while I am blogging this in a tavern where (luckily) prices also remained steadfast for the past sixty years I can only see death around me. The waning eyesight of the people around me permitted me to take a snapshot to show you what I am truly talking about.
Behold what I call one of death's many faces...For the past 39 minutes this "still" has not changed one bit, with the exception of the old lady scratching what seems to be a rash under her what-I presume to be- wig. It's a scary concept, especially when you're in Ostend waiting in a tavern to negotiate new terms in your relationship. Is this a possible reality if I were to succeed in maintaining this current relationship? And should I learn to say "we" instead of "I"?
Still beauty is to be found in the strangest places here in Ostend...
Is she simply deluded or having fun? I couldn't figure out, but I do believe she is happy doing what she does best...dancing around in the streets wearing what I can only call a hooker'ish Miss Santa Clause outfit. I was trying to find the nearest bathroom at that point, and ended up finding her...amazing how serendipity pops up when you're trying your best to find the most adequate place to release your inhibitions right?
Speaking of inhibitions. Ostend made me realize how many diamonds in the rough this part of Belgium contains. Of course I was somewhat "high" on keeping my sphincter in check when this thought came to mind, but I just couldn't help but think Cesario Evora's soft gentle twin sister somehow ended up in Ostend selling newspapers for a buffalo nickle, hoping she'd one day reclaim her rightful spot on mount Olympus.
My man arrived with the usual dumb-found look in his eyes in a futile attempt to hide what he's truly thinking. It's strange how so many people around me simply can't say what they mean...and then choose to simply shut up or resort to nonsense. I prefer the direct approach...usually that is.
F. always seems to need an introduction for things to come...my only attempt at debating what was going on in our relationship was quickly deflected by a tear in his hand (or was it in his eye). I wonder what he fears, commitment comes to mind, but my Sharon Stone-sense says there's more involved, and so far he doesn't seem very willing to share those thoughts...therefore I'll try again in more intimate circumstances.
The house he took me to breathes "family life"...it's the stench I've always avoided in my life. Everything that's too cosy scares the living daylight out of me...obviously, because you always fear what you don't know (or haven't known) right? Being confronted with F.'s sister was easier than expected. I acted casually as I often do these days...but behind the casualness there was weariness and doubt...she seemed tired and somewhat indifferent...as if she had seen it "all" and didn't care too much about seeing more. Yet there was grace in how she put a ricotta lasagna in the oven that led me to believe she's a fun sex-kitten behind closed doors.Well all of the above or she was suffering from un unwanted pregnancy...I'll ask F. someday.
My man said he'd take me skating...was it a way of covering up the stitches in our fragile beginning bound or did we both want to enjoy a slice of banality? Either way...I'm enjoying the hours spent in the presence of his white mercedes.
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten