Jan Haringstraat 42


Desk… a computer in front of me… At my left hand a newspaper on top of which Ishmael Beah’s green cover book is sitting quietly. An African child carrying a weapon on his back. The memoirs of a child soldier. Just read it… A couple of fingers away a map of Utrecht, a hair gel and some books… From a Dutch person’s point of view a fairly decent place to live in, home probably they would say it’s rather small… But it’s fairly well for a Dutch, since he only spends a couple of weeks home… I just met her four or five days ago… A month already past since I started living my life here. I got used to it from the first moment. Homesickness? It is just too far away, too many new things.

A usual Thursday night, or not? It wasn’t Tivoli that opened its gates to us, but somehow a dozen of us chose Monza. Bad choice, so it seemed, but a few hours later an infernal party was ravaging the city center near the old post office. Friends, roommates, newly found mates. We got together. A couple of hours and the alcohol induced smile on everyone’s face… Meanwhile I’m looking at her face. She smiles but fire burns in her eyes. The music doesn’t stop. Hundreds of beer glasses lie on the floor or just laze around on some tables. The music seeps threw your joints and you start moving. Suffocating crowd. Light beans, smoke, sweat, laughter, beer bottles mix together and cover us with their hazy wale. With my hands I touch her waist. Music flows threw our muscles and dancing begins. Your hands grab her hips and slowly move towards her shoulders. Her long and thick black hair covers your arms. You can hear her breath, the fire in her eyes burns faster. A touch with your lips on her shoulders and music embraces you. Every movement merges with the hazy wale. Her undulating hip makes your mind dizzy. The dancing just goes on. Her soft and silent breath touches your ears. You gently touch her neck. You look into her eyes…. But play for a couple of more moments. It’s just a game yet. A smile on her cheeks that makes you crazy. The smile. A burning kiss. Music completely overwhelms every inch of your body. Your hands flow threw her body. You grab her hands and cover her lips with a sudden kiss. She turns. Grabs your back. Sensuality burns. Dimo’s smiling face and camera flashes. But we don’t observe them. The sounds of music rule over us.

Four nights and five days and I’m sitting in her room. It is if I knew her for months. I don’t yet know what I feel for her, but honestly don’t even want to know. Let life flow. A one night stand that still continues… I found myself. I had to get away from home to find myself. My life without a plan in front of me. I just let it flow… A few minutes and she should be back. A couple of hours at the university and it feels like she’s gone for ages. It’s hard to obtain someone’s confidence and I don’t want to mess with it… You hold her in your arms in the morning and wake up with her smiling face. A gentle touch on her soft skin. Every part of your body is laughing. A slow pinch on her nose and a sudden kiss on it. The childish smile one her face that drives your crazy. She holds onto your neck. She slowly puts her head on your shoulder and gently touches your hair. The passion of last night turned into a childish smile. People who just need some affection. Her thick hair, brown skin, burning eyes, dazzling hips and you still look for the child in her. She’s sleeping in your arms. Morning, noon, night, it just doesn’t matter anymore. You live for every moment, minute, hour of it and search for her smile. You grab the moment and don’t want to let it go. You hold on and stick to it as much as you can.

A never ending question doesn’t let me go… What will be after a year? Go back home? Who am I going to be back home? Do I go back or just let an invisible wind ride me across borders, sees, countries, friends, smiles. And where am I going to stop then? Or is this just the fun of it. You just ride above everything on the back of a gentle breeze or do you stop and look around? Questions that I don’t have an answer for but I’m not looking for one. Possibly New York, Paris, an island in the Caribbean, Transylvania, or all of them… A sudden sound of keys in the door. A cool breeze and her warm glance. You watch her as she puts her jacket on the chair, opens the window and gives you a kiss… Her nose is cold and her hands talk about the cold air outside… And this is where I end these lines. Probably on another day.

Utrecht 2nd of Oct. 2007

 

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