Sunday

Sunday afternoon. Snowflakes keep falling. I'm feeling a bit claustrophobic at home and I've got nothing to eat. I need to go out. We'll see what happens.

It's four o'clock in the afternoon and I can't get out of home. Fifty centimetres of snow prevent the door from opening. Hmmpf. I'm a fucking pig-headed stubborn dude. No fucking snow will stop me. I get out through the window. Fine. But everytime I step forward I get drowned in this unstable, white, cold jelly.

Now. I'm out, at last. Funny enough: the streets have disappeared. That is, only the main road is still scarcely visible. The only way to keep walking on is slaloming among the cars. A bit dangerous, really. What the heck am I doing here. Twenty minutes later a bus manages to reach the bus stop I'm freezing in. And it will take us twenty minuntes -instead of five- to get downtown.

People around me try to take it easy. I try as well. But it's hard when you've got plenty of snow in yer boots and you don't feel yer toes anymore. Good thing that I brought my pocket radio. Time passes so slowly in here. For goodness sake, why on earth didn't I stay home.

I buy some bread. That's the only thing I can buy with the money I've got. I save some coins so I'll be able to buy some more bread tomorrow.

It's a funny feeling. It's a cruel sweet paradox. To be glad only because you've got enough money to buy yourself some bread. I feel like a beggar. Somehow I am.

I arrive at my office. I stay there for the rest of the evening. At ten o'clock I take my stuff and get back home. I made it. One more day. A few dreams lost. A few uncertainities gained. But who cares. After all, life is exactly this: a matter of surviving.

Comments

[De Passage]

J'aime à te lire ( avec AltaVista je l'avoue )et je crois comprendre ce que tu ne veux pas faire comprendre mais que tu dis parce que tu le penses. Suis-je compréhensible ? car il n'y a nul traducteur qui me comprenne