Herpes More Condition_symptoms

V

V

The American disappeared. Paid the rent disappeared, the bastard. His room was empty now for two weeks and certainly it would have been. No idea on how to track it down. I did not have receipts showing that the payment or anything. In other words I had been cheated. Fuck! When I take a rip me is always in great remorse. I do not know, the fact that I must be the bad guy, he does evil things, on the contrary, I realize I'm a rookie compared what one is capable of inventing, the dexterity of the bastards who fuck you mean.
I had cheated the son of a bitch, and what not I went on down. Sciala my four hundred offering money to drink, or if they had smoked in a shitty coffee shops, or fotterseli with whores. Here's how I imagined the American. In an access of rage I decided to play hard too, and some gonzo subaffitare the apartment. But I gave up. What was the trigger a chain of dishonesty? The city had had enough. And me too.
walked up and down the small apartment eating the carpeting and biting my nails to dispose of the anger. I softened a kick in a cabinet, pulled down in a chair and let the taps run for hours. Who was doing wrong then, I did not.
I was tormented. Who owned the apartment that I lived? And who else had the keys? At any moment the true owner could have me out of the house. And if in the middle of the night someone had stabbed me in my sleep? Jesus, I could not go on like that! It was to go mad. Then, as soon as I climbed to the call center, walked with his head down a new search on the Internet, starting the ballet of the visits through the city: apartments without access, others with the sloping floor, others without heating, no windows and so on.
I was lucky this time. The easy thing was resolved.
The apartment was in the Red Light District, on the Oudezijds Voorburgwal. The estate agent was in the company of another man, who was also interested. Upon entering the house I realized that this was what I wanted. The ceiling of the hall was at least six feet high, with a central chandelier as those of the nobility. The apartment has one large bedroom and a toilet in Amsterdam that I had never met. In the sense. In Amsterdam, the process is not something to be proud of. They have the cup in one place and another in the shower, so to speak, a bidet and will not speak. Often I've had shit stuck to the wall with your knees. This was a process rather by principles. And I fell in love. I say the house and even the toilet.
The thing that persuaded me was the ceiling. I have always believed that thoughts are energy waves that spread in the air, and for that they need space to take off. The low ceilings do not provide enough way out and sent back flooded the thinker. Who has the good fortune to live in the countryside or in apartments with high ceilings, where thoughts have the opportunity to spread and go where they please, live happily ...
The agent shook returned to land, and said
- The rent is a thousand money per month, including electricity, water and gas. You pay one month in advance and one month of commission for the agency. I forgot, once a week is the cleaning lady.
- I'll take it! - I cried.
That was my home. Decided. An official with the type Parlotti. The type refused. It seems that a bedroom is not enough for that price. Agent shook hands and said
- I'll leave a deposit of two hundred soldiers. You'll get the rest next week. Delete your ad. The house is taken.
accepted.
I followed a strategy adopted. I visited dozens of apartments and at that price a house like that was a miracle to Amsterdam. Find someone willing to pay a "certain number" for rent was a matter of a week or less. The mezzanine was clear. I Economic bought a bed from Ikea and I had my room. That's it! For certain things come from Naples is an advantage.
The day after I posted an ad on the Internet: for rent loft in the Red Light district, 120sqm, hardwood floors, washer, dryer, cleaning woman on Friday, seven money including electricity, light, and gas. Call only if really interested.
In the following days I was bombarded with emails. Professionals more than anything else. People that wheat had to spend and if they cared little. He wanted to live in a loft on the red light district, paid attention to this.
A girl was given the most. It was called Shina, was a Scot. When I showed the house was also a stroke of lightning for her.
- It's a show! For seven hundred is a bargain. And the chandelier, then, divine!
- Yeah, and watch it light. - I said, turning on the light.
- I like it. I'll take it! - And we shook hands like two old friends. The next day
Shina paid its part. I just have not put the rest and deliver to the agent. The ball good, it was clear, now I had it myself.

Edinburgh Outlet Mall

IV

IV

Everyday I walk the same route underground along with thousands of people from Central Station, stop Bijlmer suburb. Once removed from the metro I enter between the tower blocks of the corporations with the stained glass mirror cutting the lawns kept with care. After the blue Ikea building within the gray in the NCR. I put the badge in recognition of gimmick, the automatic door opens, the goalkeeper ignores me, I take the elevator, short corridor, another door magnetic card in another gimmick, until arrival in a room as large as a football field in which round tables are located divided by country, each with six operators.
walk between the employee accompanied by a buzz which converge incomprehensible dialects of the world. I reach the Italian position, I wave my colleagues, I sit down on the chair, turn on the computer, wearing headphones, and I begin to answer stupid questions, the most idiotic that they can think of.
For eight hours, five times a week, so it consumes my life. I'm young, but I feel that the time in here breaks up into sand that will not build any castle.
mesh was hard this time. Think I could easily bear the commitment to the call center after the experience to Telecom, but instead it was to deny me knowledge of all possible enthusiasm. Also my new colleagues were crazy. Imbalances. During working hours employed by a perseverance and tenacity hair-raising. Automated remained in place for several hours with eyes glued to the screen as if that was the only purpose of life. And presumably it was. That was me wrong, I still find myself there without mania or future. Observe the pet team manager finally shattered the last shred of my communist dream. They asked for a promotion called for the advance in the hierarchy, to become someone, and honestly, I understood their desire to get involved in the vicious circle of capitalism, in which you are appreciated only by doing something more than the others, but without wanting quell'integerrimo sense of having murdered the right to strike, 36ore condemned to death, hanged the minimum wage. So devoted to work, these young disciples were the climax of the majority shareholders. And it was not a brood of miraculous. Behind them, an army was ready to replace them with the same force of will, the same impetus. I was disappointed by it all. I did not feel anything to share that system. Yet I myself was part of that mechanism can not be disabled. I felt like a cog. Nothing more. And I had always run the same way as not to seize the engine, and they mine. Like a fucking Matrix, I had the impression that the salary credited to the c / c I like a battery-nourished body!
soon followed that rhythm fool week spun off so quickly lose track of time. Five days a week I listened to millions of words, for most complaints from angry and ignorant people, who on Friday evening seemed to be emerging from a juice extractor. Switch off and I realized that those bastards m'avevano shake the brain. A pap m'avevano tanned. And an entire week of my life had passed without an enormous sense of my place zero in the chest. Those two days of freedom were not enough to clean your brains out by thousands of insults which have been stored reluctantly, that Monday I was with the headphones connected. To appease the tumultuous swirl of rumors that I bounced off the head I would have to spend those two days off in a silent wood lying on the ocean floor, in the bowels of a cave. Or instead of I could complain about looking for another job. But it was not so easy to change now that I had arranged. In fact, I was lucky to find work in a short time, gained independence.
In short, wrapped in the warmth of the heated air, watching the world fall apart over the windows of glass, protected from the weather, away from danger, paradoxically trapped by the same hated my job easy.
accurate even after eight hours that day had gone. To tell, nothing. His colleagues were working overtime. I left the office. I got to the metro. I recognized some people who worked on the third floor. There he came there to greet the train and disappeared in the wagon. Montaigne too. Clouds out the window of parchment escorted us to the central station. It was raining slightly. I gave up the tram em'incamminai walk.
I needed to leave to escape the thoughts away. Amsterdam is the ideal environment to reflect their own whims. The architecture of the buildings blends perfectly with the atmosphere dark and foggy winter. A city
secret, mysterious, this one here.
I avoided the flow of tourists and crossed the Spui district. I walked along a building with a sloping front and taxes on wood colored red. I turned down a side street alone. A bitch asked me in the room. I refused. I walked among the less popular channels to find peace, dispersion, silence. Until I stopped in a cafe. The window was foggy from the heat. I went in and ordered a beer. These talks, read magazines, rolled cigarettes, sipping tea in a hotly much less of what happened in Italy. She does not gesture when talking. Nobody looked in the mirror to give un'aggiustata. No one raised his voice. Nobody seemed to give an account of being in the company of others, here is what I mean. It seemed that they were sitting in the living room to sip tea, slippers and a blanket on her legs, out of sight. They were beautiful to behold, so polite and civil. There remains, however, coldly on their own. Although we were warned in the same room loneliness mount dramatically. At that moment I needed exactly the opposite. I wanted to talk to someone about my health, my fears. But with whom? Then I thought about Penelope, as beautiful as the sun, and figured to get lost among the channels thrilled with his smile, the nose pointed at the buildings tilted, wide-eyed, happy pedaling a bicycle. I thought back to when we made love, caresses under the blankets in winter, tickling, laughter, and the happy days of our beautiful love story. The memory of Penelope came to grieve at all. Jesus, as I was inconsolable!
Scolai beer and I took another. The euphoria that had accompanied me that first period had disappeared, giving way to a deep concern without roots. Change country was not served. I worked again in a call center without any desire to do so and worst thing I did not know how to improve things. Before starting a project from Castellammare had more or less defined: find my way to be happy. Now, with his eyes glued to the ice clouds I thought, from the depths of my soul: "What the fuck am I doing here?"
grabbed his coat. I paid the bill. I left the bar and got lost among the city's lonely and unknown channels. Meanwhile, the light rain was coming down like ashes.

Capezio Shoes In Fairfield

III

III


after breaking up with Penelope intascai the last salary and fled from Rome disgusted by mankind. You know those times when you happen to anyone meneresti shot and not doing anything to prevent it happening? Here, those times there.
To find serenity returned to Castellammare di Stabia, my hometown. Taken possession of my room after about two years. My father, however, it gnawed. I had failed, he said. I wasted no time in those two years spent in Rome is not built anything concrete. My father was haunted by the fact that I did not have a job and therefore I was not yet able to be independent. Twenty-five years it was time to take away from the ball, but did not dare to tell me loud and clear.
Unfortunately, I was back with his tail between his legs and this strengthened his position and certainly not mine. I had no strength to fight back and replace the words that I invested. There are times when you take off the weight of defeat is hard, hard, and it would take much more than a father who preaches and break the balls. It would take understanding, affection, unconditional love. But what you want is not always easy to obtain, and especially about feelings, it just rarely gets.
I should in any case a period of peace and the only place where I could shelter was home. And then I say, do not deny hospitality to the prodigal son, or of the Christian family was the fuck?
And do not believe I've avoided talking about it, I say the fact of taking time to reflect on the future, to understand what I wanted to do in life and everything else. Lost time. I had not dug a hole from Cecil. For my father it was worth even enlist in the Foreign Legion had not been provided with folded hands.
I pointed out (not that I was grabbing fruit) that at my age already had two children to raise, a house and a steady job. And inflation, "Take as your sister. It is arranged in time. Who respects you? "
My sister, she was a fine example. Sure. From what I can remember his ambition was the family. Is determined as a mule seemed a predestined motherhood. Carmela began attend the boy who was fifteen years old, married and behaving as if it were too old: she stopped going out with friends and hobbies using the time turning to the guy in motion as soon as possible and complete their compulsory education. Since then the house was like having an aunt who was visiting from time to time, and a sister. After five years of engagement, the guy just got a job as a teller at the bank, got married, gave birth to twins, and lit a mortgage. Just twenty years his life was complete. Carmela
That day came to greet me along with his two creatures playing with rubber dinosaurs. He found me in the kitchen for breakfast. It was noon.
I gazed with a look pity, as if I had attempted suicide or had done something reprehensible. After a while, 'he said at last:
- Saints', as it exits a place in the bank do not worry. I get settled.
- I do not want to work in the bank - said the net.
- Uh actually, and what would you like to do in life, make me feel?
And here broke my defenses.
When there was to deal with this question, my swagger disintegrated into tiny specks of dust. Sbatttuto like a carpet. What I'd like to do in life? Dear Carmela if I knew, like you, who are born in one piece, do not stay here again in Rovello brains. I admire you, little sister, because you are exactly who you are: a mother who raise children and keep at bay the house. Happy despite all the troubles that others doubt you will not go up. While I still have to start living, you're already come to an end. You know what I was cheated on me? I have read a lot. Yeah. All the fault of those damn books. Here's my trouble. I stayed as ignorant as you and your father now lavorarei in carpentry, I too am a son, a wife, I lost time at the bar with friends, smoke a joint every now and then, and the game on TV Sunday. But who knows, maybe all this is false. Perhaps you are right, and sparasentenze here, still did not understand a shit. I do not know who they are. Carmela
Yet, in my head, right here, a hurricane of understanding that you do not even images. I just have to deal with them. But it is difficult, because Jesus is hard to deal with them. You suffer, you know, damn, in not knowing exactly what to look for something. See it, here, but it is fleeting insight. Adorno says that I should go, travel, to find my way and loose my ass. It is then, goodbye. And not because I have an irresistible desire, only do it to come out of this hole, and everything else! This
I wanted to tell Carmela, my sister in one piece. Rather not say anything, convinced that he could never understand.
have coffee, exchanged a few trivial chat at work, the bank, then went to the grocery store. He had time.
Soon after, as precise as the Marquis, he called my father to make sure I give them a move.
- So, find anything?
- I have an interview with Telecom next week. Take it again.
- Forget the Telecom. I spoke to the common place, no? Do not miss the Occasion, the regret. Can I put in a good word. The captain is a friend.
My father would see me as a good traffic cop.
- I do not know. I would think before you decide - I replied.
- Do you still want to waste time? You see? In Rome you have not done nothing! Stop with this story of writing and be an artist. For you, it takes something quiet. Put your feet on the ground a good time. Listen, now go to town on my behalf and speak with the captain Pisariello. It is a safe working environment. Places you. What do you want more? Others would pay for you to have that place!
There was no hope.
- You're right. Today I go to the municipality. Captain Pisariello. I scored. Promised.
- Bravo. You settle down, it is now.
I attacked.
I made an orange juice and we thought about it.
always my father is convinced that my aspiration is that of a quiet place and proceed as Carmela sent to the family and everything else. Although I had taken other roads I had never considered otherwise, stopping at the threshold of his expectations. I had moved to Rome to demonstrate that they are able to do without the woodwork and become a writer. Unfortunately, although I had worked hard, he could just keep using the call center.
In short, the few years spent in Rome, well I worked hard I spit it sucks to start over. Since I had freed the use of grace to the call center was sleeping and dreaming in color. I did not know what I wanted to do in life, honest, I was really confused, but I'd rather lose your hearing instead of lifting the handset again, and the traffic cop did not seem a big change. I dreamed of finding something better than to give way and prepare reports. My father would have said: "Thanks for the help, but now do not talk back to the front. Do not make haste, by a few segments for a living I do. I need time to reflect on my condition, "but after talking avergliene, foreign legion, undertaker or Alert, the important thing was to work.
invent some better to keep it good. Sorry I lie, but I had no alternative.
between us in the family there was a communication problem. I had tried many times to put it in terms of feelings, emotions, mood, without ever receiving the slightest understanding of their own, that I had stew. I counted up to ten, I told a lie, and let go. Yet it was useless to try to speak like a dry tree trunk, worm-eaten those that crumble easily. My father had his head in the dust. He worked in carpentry. Manufactured fixtures, tables, cabinets and the like. Ran the woodwork with his brothers. He was the eldest of four, all boys. Of those there were nothing but brotherhood. Each one went straight to his way as if they worked on their own or employed by a master. When the brothers were discussing between them seemed to listen to four strangers, four different countries, who did not know each other's language. In fact the business of carpentry is constantly held up brink of bankruptcy. And none of them seemed to notice.
The day my father lost a hand due to a circular saw instead was taken to withdraw from a strange impulse to show that they work great also impaired. In reality he would never leave those three debauched the family business. And so every day, the same sad life running after the death slowly. The morning she went into carpentry, he made her help with the grappling hook mounted on the stump, and finishing the evening he came home in front of the TV, the only source of entertainment and knowledge. An aunt gave him every evening to find a cold plate on the table. A gratitude for no apparent reason, since this aunt did not show up for ever I had never seen the house or talk about something. Brought him dinner and then disappeared. And it was easy to see how I go there in the middle of the story lack of communication.
It takes guts to live that way. It takes courage to commit suicide so slowly. I'm not that heroic. I do not have the temperament required for these businesses. I am looking for a way to combat the melancholy, one that goes up when I imagine they still overbearing mother happy to give an account which, with a hard head of Aries. Dreamers. My way short. I
then when he died. Incurable disease, doctors said. For me it was treatable instead. Curabilissimo. My mother could not die so young. My mother was immortal.
It was only three months after his burial, when one evening I went home drunk and trovavai my sister and my father nailed to the TV as idiots, that's grabbed it lost forever. Not that he had great knowledge or excelled in any field or playing instruments or was capable of arts and crafts details, but when I was interested in something, they were red onions or a new linen skirt, because those eyes were shining and red onions linen skirt that represented something special at that time, as the feast of the patron saint, and there was to be taken into account. The things that you became fond of diamonds to un'orefice, the money to a banker, a dew to the grower. Those onions or that skirt filled the eyes of life and passion. Here the flame is lit for something else and so on. Every day there was to do out there in the sun, where the eyes were shining brightly, and moved, chat, clutching shopping bags with one arm and waving a friend with another. That vital passed it to us, that we seemed united even at times, and a certain harmony reigned in the house.
"I fell in love with him, I can do about it. At the bottom is a good man. "So said, alluding to his sweet dark half.
you enlighten us, and just passed away, we were thrown into darkness.
I remember my mother always recommended to tell the truth. In any case. Eh what was wrong! Following his advice the more it grows the more I got into trouble. At school. With friends. With the girls. The truth was not appreciated. Indeed it was dangerous. I remember one day we were in the gym when one of my companions ascent with a window shattered world. The professor asked me. I told her simply that during the game Edwards had sputtered with one of his guns from outside the box. He had done it on purpose. Prof. Edwards suspended for two days. And he tried to beat me in revenge for the whole quadimestre. As long as we could. Not happy he did it a couple more times, becoming a whim.
Since then grabbed the utility to invent a story instead of Busca. I became a liar and cunning. And my life improved.
Fortunately my mother was buried years ago. A time not to notice what kind of beast I have become.
In every way, was preparing a clear day. My father had settled, my sister was gone, I ate a hearty breakfast, and mood was holding just above the edge of suicide.
I left the house. I climbed on Vespino spacial and threw me in traffic, breathing part of my daily smog. I took the road of the Water of Madonna, one that leads from downtown to the beach resorts.
Castellammare di Stabia is fascinating and frightening at the same time: Mount Vesuvius, the Gulf, the blue sky, open their hearts. Then there's everything else to ruin.
arrived at the beach. It was dirty. The conflict between enchantment and filth made me afraid. Then I jumped back in and went up for sale in the hills, the forests of Mount Faito, abandoned and dirty even worse than the beach. And from there on I saw the sea again. What did houses. And that made me really sick. Because each of those buildings in a family led a normal life and not imagine it was at war with the world.
dismounted from the wall and turned around aimlessly on a Vespa. The wind in your face and the sensation of movement was enough to distract me. I had to make a decision. I had broken the fucking sick.
went home made evening. My father
was there to watch TV sitting on the couch. Row straight into the camera. Not all was lost. I gained a decision during the day spent on a Vespa: I would leave. He was determined. No doubt.
Through a round of phone calls I got the number of Gaetano, an acquaintance who lived in Amsterdam for some years.
I called him: "I am looking for accommodation for the first time," he said.
accepted without batting an eyelid, "Uagliò, mo 'salts that bring me two friarielli!"
The next day I was in the agency and bought a ticket. I informed
Penelope departure: "What is not embark on a journey, an escape. And you will not need to escape anything. It is within you that you have to find the answer to your torments. It is by force of will that is beyond sadness. "
Yeah. Easy to put it. I do not know what was inside her, perhaps cooing white doves with an olive branch to the beak, but inside me, right in the middle of the heart muscle, the storm thundered. With whom I should speak up?
My father wished me to get a job quickly, he shook my hand, and implied that if I came back home again without having accomplished anything would be trouble. I will never forget his eyes moved to pity. Cazzzotto than I wanted to give it a face.
Adorno warned that excited said, "Finally!"

Before you set foot on the plane I remembered a phrase of Celine: a place to stay too late at around the smells of dead people. He
damn right.

South Park Online Stream

II

II


Amsterdam imagined to find all hippies and people that lived above the rows. Well, I was wrong. Here too the family and some solid values \u200b\u200blike house and car were the most popular. What can I say. The man follows a prototype and squeeze the juice a city that is the other. A little 'as changing zoo gorilla carrying the cage where they grew up. Gaetano, say, had found the woman in Castellammare or end of the world, would lead the same life, with the same pace, exactly the same expectations.
Me and Gary had not brought anyone. One evening, dealing with a drunk in a bar down the sea of \u200b\u200bSean, I met him by chance, he made more than me, and we spent the night pulling out shit. That's it.
Gary had moved to Amsterdam in love with a Dutch tourist on holiday in Sorrento. Gone to visit her was not returned. He now had a secure job, a house with a garden, and was expecting a child by his girlfriend, Hamber, who showed a blind adherence.
Gaetano kept a certain nostalgia of Castellammare. It thrilled a lot while I spoke, and added: "Saints' in the Netherlands at the end you live in peace, without worry. I figured that I forgot the keys next to the van one day and go off. Of course, the sea sucks, the weather is worse, and the kitchen have to invent. But in the end the two-hour direct flight Transavia landing at Capodichino. Do you understand? When it comes to birthdays or celebrations get out of the race, "
was happy to chat. He told me the garden, the location of new furniture, sometimes Hamber wore out to dinner, a football match in Serie A from the satellite, and was proud of his white van to: they were all there in the back garden tools. He spoke of that damn van, so slowly, savoring every word, stripping from me. The calm, that I wanted to quickly change register, bothered me. Probably his life project was said to be complete. But honestly, I was sitting there listening to him sick. I could not help it. That expression related to the same happy face fucking my sister when I complained of being inconclusive, she was instead framed as a paro paro Gary: work, family and blah blah blah. I hated their looks senz'affanni! A
say around Gaetano was a straight. One of those who have understood that it is better to step aside as soon as possible, that things are going badly. A loving person, which is pursuing the perfect scheme, dreamed that the majority, and succeed just fine. The minority - which I believe I belong - is out wrung from this perfection of questions like: "What I would do in real life?"
Meanwhile the world goes round and round without being aware of our lack. Objects that eventually become unnecessary. Strangers.
Gaetano began to speak of the unborn. Hamber then made him a surprise. He held his breath and reveals the miracle boy. At the news Gaetano did not stay in the skin. Amazing emotion came out of the round eyes and sincerely.
Watching those two hugging affectionately touched me too. And a drop of pure light I rested on the heart. The anger that rotted in the chest for a moment of affection was covered in some way and freeing the soul illumindola. I put aside the grudges and I found myself coming to terms with the truth. Oh, yes. I hated Gary because he was happy while I navigate between existential doubts and purpose of life away from being perceived. Envy is an ugly thing, but the envy of the happiness the worst.
left Italy I was not madly in love or the pleasure of traveling or who knows what else. I came out because it was the only thing to do, the only remedy to avoid going crazy, as soon as I got the impression that the people I was going around like vultures, and I lay there on the ground lifeless, the carcass to finish. Gaetano
if they beat the power of Dostoyevsky and lived equal in peace. So much so that I would have traded her life with the hours spent reading, filling my head with myths and ways of understanding, just to cheer. Fortunately, the evening
straightened. Sometimes there is a need for someone to hunt out of trouble, that alone is hard. Was not for me I continued to squeeze your brains out without cavarci nothing, but to celebrate the good news we got in the van all three. Soundgarden
We went to a local on Marnixstraat. Ten minutes later he was rolling a joint and playing pinball.
evil thoughts vanished. At least for a tot.
roll While we were there met him two strikers insisted that the Dutch in the challenge. They won the Italians and we paid the ride. In the meantime, some friends joined us for the party and Gaetano widens: Sacha, Karol, Sonja. They organized a football league as at school. Italy v Rest of the World.
One of the guys from the rest of the world, having lost all the matches, said: "What we are so many happy and I invite you to our office to drink champagne and eat sandwiches,"
We looked into his eyes for a moment, just a second , grabbed the coats and followed them.
The office is located right in front of Soundgarden. They opened the door. We went down a wooden staircase that led us into a spacious living room with hardwood floors, spilling the bar counter with a juke-box, and black leather sofas. Outside the terrace (which was at the level of the channel) was moored a boat, a barge of the ones I had often seen between the channels loaded with drunk people, especially on weekends. He
one of the Dutch: - We organize boat parties with music, wine and girls. Our company is doing well. We have the money, we must spend them!
I asked if I could pour a beer.
- Make yourself at home - Bright said. It
spillai three. Occasions like this captain so seldom there is to take advantage.
The girls pulled out of the smoke and started to taxi. The party took off. From the wooden staircase that descended continually someone new without embarrassment mingled with the group towards a drink or taxiing a barrel. They put on good music and started to talk and dance and go up and down, and here and there. These, and those who continued to arrive, filling the room, came from all over Europe. What happened reflects the essence of the city.
Amsterdam is the hub of dreams and itching of young Europeans united by the desire to meet and exchange views, an Englishwoman by using more or less crooked, bring with passions like painting, photography, writing. And I put myself there for a half. I, yes, I wanted to be a writer, I had met a couple of guys that give me to do and take off after a few drinks strong, to those places where it is said to happen, the miracle of art, when the thoughts of two strangers mix and the result invisible until you take it home, and creates, giving it the shape you create something that you bring with that bit in more that the meeting leave you impressed. As the fund in a glass of wine, like a slap, like an orgasm.
I had the impression, although I lived in town recently to be part of a large tribe. A young tribe. To meet an old man in the street could be a ragazzzo dress with a carnival or a wax statue. The cane, alcohol, prostitutes, something struck me from the beginning of artifact, the mirror for the skylarks for tourists and idiots. That was the crust. One way to make money. The juice was very different.
to take was the spirit in which the boys were looking for a way in life, the answers they gave, and I perceived squottate practice in art galleries, from street musicians, from places like the Schoum Overtoom 301 or, in which for a couple of money listening to music, bevevi beer, and walls the artists exhibiting their works. This word was that I caught the essence of Amsterdam. And I was fine.
During the evening I met a guy. His name Mutongo. He was twenty years or so. Well, this Dutch guy almost seven feet tall, slim, blond and pale as a candle, called himself after Mutongo have lived six months in a religious mission as a nurse, just Mutongo, a city ravaged by poverty in Rwanda. It was after watching a TV documentary about the civil war that had taken the spring: he could not remain indifferent, had to do something. He felt the overwhelming need to help. I had told so many about the war in the days that followed I could not sleep. With the same charity, once a week, would leave for the Philippines where he met with misery, death and famine. I wished him good luck.
Then, as the sun rises, the rooster sings, the wave that washes the shore, after talking about maiming, rapes and diseases, Mutongo completely done beer and smoke started to flirt with a English girl. At that moment I saw life and death walk hand in hand so that I could not distinguish.
The room was full of boys, and came to last a couple holding hands. She was not a great beauty, but had a great body. Immediately started to drink and smoke like everyone else.
The girl went up from the body exceptional speed. I snapped. We started dancing together tight. I liked it. The girl was playing. He put a hand between her legs rubbing well.
"What are you doing? Out here there's your boyfriend, think a moment! "
He would not listen to reason. He took me by the arm and led me upstairs. At first dark corner, we found that we gave to us to do.
It was as spontaneous exchange Christmas greetings.
After finishing we went back in the lounge. Nobody seemed avercene bad. Spillai me a beer and sat on the couch to rest the knee, above the medulla. The girl from the body exceptional poured champagne. Then he went off at half staggered terrace embraced and delighted to see her boyfriend.
When the evening ended, the girl from the great body came up to me claiming my number. The boyfriend there, watching while I was writing, without batting an eyelid.
Mutongo, meanwhile, had gone away.