Discover more from Vic Koopmans
It’s way past midnight. The lights are out, the neighbourhood is deserted. A scream from afar is all there is to be heard. Some drunk saying goodbye to the nightlife for the night. Silence again.
When the club doors close my front door opens. A nightwalker during working days. Locked up inside with a pen when the sun is out. Avoiding society, dodging the crowds. The intermezzo between the end of the night and the start of the day is my temporary liberation.
Walking on a road with my arms spread wide. Lethal behaviour on this side of the planet, but tonight the road appears to be empty. An opportunity to disobey, to colour outside of the lines. An opportunity to let my feet and thoughts run free.
A car drives by. The driver honks his horn, I sigh and shake my head. There must be some idiot walking in the middle of the road again.
Numerous thoughts are running through my mind. A marathon is being held upstairs. Wondering what my next destination will be, what I’m heading towards. I am eager to seize these question marks and bend them into exclamation marks. For now I let them be.
Looking around me I confirm that I shall not stay here. The houses are nice, the greenery is sufficient, the rain is nonexistent and quite some girls are pretty. Nevertheless, this forever expanding city has never been able to grow on me.
A homeless person runs towards me, asking me to donate to charity - the charity being this particular individual. Couldn’t we all use a donation or two? I think. Maybe we should change the exchange for a change and I should ask him for change for a change. I decide to not be recalcitrant and I hand him my filled up water bottle. Who am I to decline?
Footsteps, unlocked door, I enter, closed door. In the apartment once again. My moment of clarity and tranquility. The world is too asleep to put my head in a vise.
I look around the room: a stack of notepads dripping ink and a forty litre backpack. All my possessions.
The thought of walking the same route to the gym, ordering the same cup of coffee from the same coffee shop and laughing at the same joke told by the same garbage man that’ll pass me by the same time he did yesterday makes me decide quickly.
I smile at the picture of a gorgeous someone with who I might turn into a gorgeous something. Then I put the notepads in the backpack, the pack on my back and drive out to the airport. The flight ticket appears in my inbox during the ride. Ready to escape the routine.
Ascend, descend, a cup of coffee, a smile from across the street. My lips meet their delicious match, our fingers intertwine.
She puts her head on my shoulder and we drive off to a place where no one knows our name.
Happy to risk it all once again for this thing called love.
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