La segunda parte
I stare through the tiny window on my right. It’s dark outside. On my left sits a twenty-something year old nodding off, going through customs on his way to dreamland. My consciousness is keen on heading in the same direction.
I am sat here on this seat in a fairly claustrophobic space. There’s limited room for movement. My legs are calling me names, rightfully so. Ticking all the boxes of the average Dutch man isn’t an advantage today.
People stroll by. Some look excited, some appear slightly startled and confused. Some make their entrance gracefully, some prefer obnoxiousness.
All I’m hoping for is that my magnetism for attracting smelly, obese people and mothers with babies to come sit next to me is defective today.
I peek at the screen in front of me. Bright colours and news I can do without enter my sight. My fingertip touching the “off-button” causes the stagnation of contamination.
Here comes a man rolling down the isle. His height equals his width, he speaks on full volume with an accent that makes you hate languages, his body odour is far from hygienic and he holds a baby.
My eyes open wide. Barely able to utter a word I whisper, “My arch nemesis.”
He stops, smiles at me, says something in what must be his native language and walks on. I might just become religious.
Another look out of the window. The sun is making its grand entree. Months of a “normal” structured life have gone by rather quickly. A life that grew on me, that I appreciate. A life that’ll be my standard one day, but not yet.
A bunch of noise and anxious laughter. I see people carrying bags filled to the brim, similar to the numerous thoughts cramped in this wicked mind of mine. If only the mind could be opened in a non-Hannibalesque manner. To be liberated from these mammal screams, for I prefer the silence over these redundant lambs.
I grab a notepad and a pen and draw a man taking a leap, afterwards jumping in the deep end. It seems to be all that I’m doing.
Movement, wheels come lose, the scenery can be seen from a different perspective.
I insert my earplugs, down a pair of sleeping pills and cross swords with this dark knight called insomnia.
The hands of the clock go in circles as I go back in time. Foreign lands I’m familiar with appear. Round two has commenced.
Olé.
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