Confusion

One notice, one disappointment. The privacy of my own room, a chat. A desperate attempt to get in touch with my loved ones, someone to listen to what I have to say.

A friend who is not really a close friend, but one who seems the perfect moment friend. It’s good with some company at times like this, when you are a bit lost.

My way to the door, a call, a meeting. Some spicy food helps. A cola light to keep the caffeine running. Paris-Dakar on tv.

Out of there, done with food. Beers at the kiosk.
A walk by the canal, it’s freezing cold.
The benches are wet. Oh well, we sit anyway.
A beautiful view: the top of a spiral church, glowing in the dark night.
A golden top, created by someone disappointed by its own success,
at least that’s what they say.
The beer is cold, my fingers are freezing. But a beer is great now,
even though a cup of hot chocolate would have been more appropriate
(even better with a shot of cognac).
Some nonsense talk… some talk making sense.
A cigarette. I quit smoking, but a cigarette helps now.

What happened to those shy classmates that we didn’t think would go somewhere with their lives?
Those who never were really noticed. They might be super crazy succesful scientists now, doing stuff beyond belief.
What about those who were sure to have a great future, those who spent years in college to be someone,
and they end up at another side of the world, trying a new life, doing something totally different…
What happened to their dreams?
A long sip of beer, and another cigarette, why not.It’s nice to be out, but it’s time to go home.
A little more talk, making sense, a walk through the cold night, having the city lights as friends watching over you.
An inspiration, a need to write. An eagerness to get home, and make these feelings concrete.

Sadness is the biggest inspiration to write. Writing is a consolation. It’s a way to get the best of me, out of the worst of me.

(Copenhagen, January 5th, 2005)