Tonight I went to Natasha’s. We were listening to Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin; Natasha translated the songs from French so I could understand, she was stopping at every bit. Leave it, leave it Natasha, I said. And we listened all the way through.
I cannot remember the name of that one about the mouse’s pink tail sticking out from the hole on the wall. It was very descriptive actually,
hiding from love, hiding from blue skies , the mouse hiding in the hole.
Then I told her the anecdote of me getting drunk with a beer with no alcohol, and she told the anecdote of her love life in Paris. She is a crazy one, Natasha, and she is in love with Paris. We always end up talking about Paris and she plays French songs. I keep telling her I’ll give her Rayuela, everybody who loves Paris should read it.
In what language should I get it though? Italian, French, Macedonian? Probably it's not even translated anymore, probably it's impossible to buy.
Then I came home. It’s not a long walk, two, three minutes probably. It was snowing, beautifully, silently as it does. It is a common place but it is true. Snow is silent.
I looked up for a few minutes and saw it coming down; it didn’t make a noise, though it seemed to be falling in tons. Then I stopped looking up because I didn’t want to step on shit.
My street is full of shit and it can be quite dangerous. And quite annoying I would say. I wondered if snow would cover all the shit there is, and I wondered if it would manage to disguise the stink. Somebody put witty signs along the street ironically praising the quality of the shit that we are being gifted with every day. The signs are so funny people stop and take pictures of them. I wonder what the people who bring their dogs to shit here think about them; probably they don’t get the irony and think they are doing us a favour. Though I really have not seen these people, and I don’t see any dogs at all. So I wonder where all the shit comes from, really.
I’ve stepped on it twice this week, it’s not strange since I’ve been very distracted these days. I also cut my thumb while slicing a carrot, and dropped a plate full of lentils on the floor.
Cleaning lentils from the floor is not easy. No, no.
I cannot remember the name of that one about the mouse’s pink tail sticking out from the hole on the wall. It was very descriptive actually,
hiding from love, hiding from blue skies , the mouse hiding in the hole.
Then I told her the anecdote of me getting drunk with a beer with no alcohol, and she told the anecdote of her love life in Paris. She is a crazy one, Natasha, and she is in love with Paris. We always end up talking about Paris and she plays French songs. I keep telling her I’ll give her Rayuela, everybody who loves Paris should read it.
In what language should I get it though? Italian, French, Macedonian? Probably it's not even translated anymore, probably it's impossible to buy.
Then I came home. It’s not a long walk, two, three minutes probably. It was snowing, beautifully, silently as it does. It is a common place but it is true. Snow is silent.
I looked up for a few minutes and saw it coming down; it didn’t make a noise, though it seemed to be falling in tons. Then I stopped looking up because I didn’t want to step on shit.
My street is full of shit and it can be quite dangerous. And quite annoying I would say. I wondered if snow would cover all the shit there is, and I wondered if it would manage to disguise the stink. Somebody put witty signs along the street ironically praising the quality of the shit that we are being gifted with every day. The signs are so funny people stop and take pictures of them. I wonder what the people who bring their dogs to shit here think about them; probably they don’t get the irony and think they are doing us a favour. Though I really have not seen these people, and I don’t see any dogs at all. So I wonder where all the shit comes from, really.
I’ve stepped on it twice this week, it’s not strange since I’ve been very distracted these days. I also cut my thumb while slicing a carrot, and dropped a plate full of lentils on the floor.
Cleaning lentils from the floor is not easy. No, no.
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