And there was her body and soul holding hands while the free fall lasted with both pairs of eyes fixed on the pavement hundreds of meters down.
She knew what would happen to both of them, experience is an excellent teacher. A couple of years back, when her youth and beauty were even more piercing and breathtaking, she had played the game with a young prospect, the type many women would, literally, kill for. That time she imposed the same conditions, same rules. The results could not be the same again, she could not allow that to happen.
The moment she had walked out the door on him, his life had started crumbling so fast that picking up the pieces was not humanly possible. Interest in any kind of earthly pleasure was no longer there; every other woman (no matter her age, race or type of beauty) resulted painfully boring. Every place he had been to, known or not, had appeared critically dull. Every kind of food or drink , in spite of being as expensive or rare as it gets, had tasted just flat.
All he had left was a bunch of broken thoughts and a swollen broken heart. She saw it in the news just a couple of days after the incident, young promising lawyer found taking
The two men stood still with eyes as open as their hearts were and jaws dropping to their knees.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
And What She Did To You (6Six6)
I will be brave enough to offer you my personal set of Instructions to fly: First; introduce yourself and get acquainted to that woman your attention was fixed on the moment you entered that room filled with strangers. Feathers will start popping out your pores that same evening.
Then link your thoughts throughout the day by exchanging some words, one at a time. Give yours fully and take hers, breathe them in and make them yours forever, your body will get lighter and your soul will swell with her gossip, opinions, compliments and questions filling you up.
The third in this series is to dine, munch or nibble depending on the place you go to but always devouring the fervent joy expelled by her. You will no longer be affected by gravity as other human beings are.
Before the last step, pick a warm afternoon and drink more than you should have together. Talk nonsense in a non-stop pace, make impossible plans and projects for the future you will never share together (but you think you will) and conclude it all with a moist breathtaking clash of tongue and lips in a deserted parking lot. The flapping noise of your new appendages taking you up will delight you while you leave the ground.
Pour finir en beaute, put your arm around her waist, chew together a fancy brunch in a well known but not completely special place, wipe the excess of sauce nesting on the edge of her mouth and pass the next hours at an expensive hotel room perspiring rivulets even though you are not wearing any clothes. You belong to the sky from that moment on.
Then link your thoughts throughout the day by exchanging some words, one at a time. Give yours fully and take hers, breathe them in and make them yours forever, your body will get lighter and your soul will swell with her gossip, opinions, compliments and questions filling you up.
The third in this series is to dine, munch or nibble depending on the place you go to but always devouring the fervent joy expelled by her. You will no longer be affected by gravity as other human beings are.
Before the last step, pick a warm afternoon and drink more than you should have together. Talk nonsense in a non-stop pace, make impossible plans and projects for the future you will never share together (but you think you will) and conclude it all with a moist breathtaking clash of tongue and lips in a deserted parking lot. The flapping noise of your new appendages taking you up will delight you while you leave the ground.
Pour finir en beaute, put your arm around her waist, chew together a fancy brunch in a well known but not completely special place, wipe the excess of sauce nesting on the edge of her mouth and pass the next hours at an expensive hotel room perspiring rivulets even though you are not wearing any clothes. You belong to the sky from that moment on.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
What She Did To Me (5Five5)
What she did to Me.
The meeting had been scheduled at around 10 of this drizzly, dull Sunday morning.
This had been decided the night before after a long and tedious confrontation in the counter of a dim and cacophonic, but somehow extremely relaxing wine bar located in the tenth floor of a shabby building five minutes away from the station. Was it really the place that allowed me to be at ease or was it the weight of her body pressing against my body, proving this was real?
The reason for the argument had not changed from the previous already uncountable times during the last six months; As her eyes saw it, a step forward in this relation, as for me a leap into a deep swallowing abyss. Each time I thought about it, even if I adored her shapes, was devoted to the texture of her hair and skin, loved the sensation when kissing her soft neck and inspiring the invasive fragrance expelled by her pores and found highly pleasant the hours we spent together, the idea of compromise and marriage, once again, seemed far, too far away.
Nonetheless, after four glasses of red wine that felt like silk in the palate, completed with a portion of oak smoked ham next to tiny squares of Roquefort for me, three glasses of foamy draft beer and a beautiful array of breaded shrimp for her, an overprized bill settled, shouts from the throats of the waiters thanking, asking us to be careful on the way home and almost begging us to come back soon, a hundred steps backwards to the station, some empty thanks for the time spent together, and a couple of emotionless hugs, I found my tongue as deep inside her mouth as her fingernails were inside the flesh of my back. It is true I might say, passion with her felt good. The fixed eyes with the mixed feeling of disgust and jealousy of Passers-by watching our seemingly eternal embrace against the surprisingly neat wall of that puzzling collection of tunnels made me savor the moment feeling extremely empowered.
I would not let her go, even though I was not ready to offer her anything else in exchange, still my warm fingers crawling inside her soft flesh hindered me from being reasonable. She was about to leave the man and would have done it right away if I had asked for it, but my selfishness told me to possess her without making her my possession.
We met the following gray and rainy day at around 10 a.m. as planned. The ravenous desire I had for her pulled my out of my sleep earlier than I expected; by seven I was already trying to keep my heart inside my chest, with my eyes wide open and sweat dripping from my forehead. I fancied feeling her warmth on top of me, beneath me, next to me. As a result, I got to the meeting point, a massive train station gulping in as many as 2 million souls every single day, much earlier. Looking around a huge foreign neighborhood for a good get-in cheap hotel to spend the morning with her was the best pastime I could come up with. However, after some burdensome 50 minutes or so, I decided to go backwards and wait for my lady to show up. Rain was pouring down in a non-stop deluge, but even that didn’t’ risk drowning my ever-growing desire. My coat felt as twice as heavy and cold was piercing through my bones in a caustic way but just picturing her sticky lips approaching mine made it worth the wait. After a short call announcing the parade, there she was coming up the escalator, with her hair done, her white teeth and eyes shining at me, wearing a fully spotted black and white blouse and an orange short skirt.
The meeting had been scheduled at around 10 of this drizzly, dull Sunday morning.
This had been decided the night before after a long and tedious confrontation in the counter of a dim and cacophonic, but somehow extremely relaxing wine bar located in the tenth floor of a shabby building five minutes away from the station. Was it really the place that allowed me to be at ease or was it the weight of her body pressing against my body, proving this was real?
The reason for the argument had not changed from the previous already uncountable times during the last six months; As her eyes saw it, a step forward in this relation, as for me a leap into a deep swallowing abyss. Each time I thought about it, even if I adored her shapes, was devoted to the texture of her hair and skin, loved the sensation when kissing her soft neck and inspiring the invasive fragrance expelled by her pores and found highly pleasant the hours we spent together, the idea of compromise and marriage, once again, seemed far, too far away.
Nonetheless, after four glasses of red wine that felt like silk in the palate, completed with a portion of oak smoked ham next to tiny squares of Roquefort for me, three glasses of foamy draft beer and a beautiful array of breaded shrimp for her, an overprized bill settled, shouts from the throats of the waiters thanking, asking us to be careful on the way home and almost begging us to come back soon, a hundred steps backwards to the station, some empty thanks for the time spent together, and a couple of emotionless hugs, I found my tongue as deep inside her mouth as her fingernails were inside the flesh of my back. It is true I might say, passion with her felt good. The fixed eyes with the mixed feeling of disgust and jealousy of Passers-by watching our seemingly eternal embrace against the surprisingly neat wall of that puzzling collection of tunnels made me savor the moment feeling extremely empowered.
I would not let her go, even though I was not ready to offer her anything else in exchange, still my warm fingers crawling inside her soft flesh hindered me from being reasonable. She was about to leave the man and would have done it right away if I had asked for it, but my selfishness told me to possess her without making her my possession.
We met the following gray and rainy day at around 10 a.m. as planned. The ravenous desire I had for her pulled my out of my sleep earlier than I expected; by seven I was already trying to keep my heart inside my chest, with my eyes wide open and sweat dripping from my forehead. I fancied feeling her warmth on top of me, beneath me, next to me. As a result, I got to the meeting point, a massive train station gulping in as many as 2 million souls every single day, much earlier. Looking around a huge foreign neighborhood for a good get-in cheap hotel to spend the morning with her was the best pastime I could come up with. However, after some burdensome 50 minutes or so, I decided to go backwards and wait for my lady to show up. Rain was pouring down in a non-stop deluge, but even that didn’t’ risk drowning my ever-growing desire. My coat felt as twice as heavy and cold was piercing through my bones in a caustic way but just picturing her sticky lips approaching mine made it worth the wait. After a short call announcing the parade, there she was coming up the escalator, with her hair done, her white teeth and eyes shining at me, wearing a fully spotted black and white blouse and an orange short skirt.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Weeping Heart Of Stone (4Four4)
There they were. Both had reached the tipping point and things were about to happen. These two bodies were now mixed with and within the city; breathing, growing, amusing, hurting and decaying as one, only parting ways when the hearts of muscle and flesh would stop pumping life; The city's heart of concrete will simply keep beating forever.
She will waive both of them goodbye in a painful embrace thinking in her packed loneliness "you have become something else, something more, but I remain here unchanged".
This empress did not let them down while they were inhabiting her insides though. When experiencing a burst of joy, every cloud she wore on top of her head would wear a pure silver lining crying to be admired. Joy would immediately emerge and get painted on their faces. When she felt like spending time by herself, she would cry rivers, obliging them to look for refuge but allowing those who understood to share those precious moments with the loved one or to find him or her in that packed place where others were also avoiding the rain.
With the time, inhabitants of this leviathan of steel started resembling her; dazzling girls with railway long legs stretching ahead and leading us to misty, tunnels of comfort. Infants who become boys who become adults who turn into dust, like seeds that turn that turn into trees that turn into dead leaves in the dirty ground.
Fortunately, she was not helpless in her effort. In the shadowed corners created by the buildings which popped up like mushrooms since the end of the war, legions of black firebirds made their treasures out of the garbage of others. Nature perpetuated in impossible places giving the green touch that made the deep gray routine more bearable. The cimmerian river arms nurtured and craddled the desperate ones giving them peace of mind.
She, the city, The only mute witness of all kind of sins, capital or not, who always standed perfectly impartial, was about to witness in complete helplessness how two of her children would rather follow the void than spending some more time inside her.
She will waive both of them goodbye in a painful embrace thinking in her packed loneliness "you have become something else, something more, but I remain here unchanged".
This empress did not let them down while they were inhabiting her insides though. When experiencing a burst of joy, every cloud she wore on top of her head would wear a pure silver lining crying to be admired. Joy would immediately emerge and get painted on their faces. When she felt like spending time by herself, she would cry rivers, obliging them to look for refuge but allowing those who understood to share those precious moments with the loved one or to find him or her in that packed place where others were also avoiding the rain.
With the time, inhabitants of this leviathan of steel started resembling her; dazzling girls with railway long legs stretching ahead and leading us to misty, tunnels of comfort. Infants who become boys who become adults who turn into dust, like seeds that turn that turn into trees that turn into dead leaves in the dirty ground.
Fortunately, she was not helpless in her effort. In the shadowed corners created by the buildings which popped up like mushrooms since the end of the war, legions of black firebirds made their treasures out of the garbage of others. Nature perpetuated in impossible places giving the green touch that made the deep gray routine more bearable. The cimmerian river arms nurtured and craddled the desperate ones giving them peace of mind.
She, the city, The only mute witness of all kind of sins, capital or not, who always standed perfectly impartial, was about to witness in complete helplessness how two of her children would rather follow the void than spending some more time inside her.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
The Other One (3Three3)
You too? Have you come to steal something else from me? Too bad for you that all I cared for has already been stolen; the moment is still so fresh that pain sits to share dinner with me every single night. We have mainly bad times together I have to say, when we are together the best wines taste faulty and the sweetest desserts bitter, pain is not the best companion.
Sitting on the mattress with the Television set lighting up my face, I was so absorbed by the news of a probable nuclear attack from one of our dear neighbor countries that I didn’t realize all the packing that was taking place next door. Her caramel scented presence came first and settled itself in front of me blocking the door, followed instants latter by her shaking body and her round face in tears, a rolling suitcase being dragged by her right hand, a tiny purse hanging from her left shoulder.
Understanding slapped me in the face with rage and in slow motion. Frame by frame I saw the big callous hand approaching until my cheek felt the strike.
When the words finally could come out of my mouth I said “Please don't go away, turn off the lights and come here.
"She stared at me from the bedroom door and supplied with a velvety voice "please don't follow me."
-"Take me with you. Won't you let me come? Let me ride you and show you again how it feels when we are together" I replied with warm, salty tears streaming down my face.
-She simply answered "Just wanna go home.
"-"Home is here" I whispered.
-"Home is anywhere but here" she concluded.
That last time I ever saw my angel, destination unknown forever, was when those delicate hands closed the door behind her leaving me with just myself again. She was long gone. However, all the times she laughed, the little things she said, the silly thoughts she thought stayed right here making my insides rot. The knot in my throat grew as big as a ripe apple and made it hard to breathe since then. I often see myself holding my veins in my hands, wrapping them around my neck and hanging myself from the ceiling. It has to stop. I woke up a few minutes before, feeling the terrible need to jump, to flap my arms all the way down to the ground. No need for breakfast, washing or clothes this morning, just jump.
Lost in my thoughts I almost forgot the guy next door staring at me with his mouth so open I can see his guts from here. What the hell is he looking at anyway? Has he never seen a naked man standing on a rail before?
Sitting on the mattress with the Television set lighting up my face, I was so absorbed by the news of a probable nuclear attack from one of our dear neighbor countries that I didn’t realize all the packing that was taking place next door. Her caramel scented presence came first and settled itself in front of me blocking the door, followed instants latter by her shaking body and her round face in tears, a rolling suitcase being dragged by her right hand, a tiny purse hanging from her left shoulder.
Understanding slapped me in the face with rage and in slow motion. Frame by frame I saw the big callous hand approaching until my cheek felt the strike.
When the words finally could come out of my mouth I said “Please don't go away, turn off the lights and come here.
"She stared at me from the bedroom door and supplied with a velvety voice "please don't follow me."
-"Take me with you. Won't you let me come? Let me ride you and show you again how it feels when we are together" I replied with warm, salty tears streaming down my face.
-She simply answered "Just wanna go home.
"-"Home is here" I whispered.
-"Home is anywhere but here" she concluded.
That last time I ever saw my angel, destination unknown forever, was when those delicate hands closed the door behind her leaving me with just myself again. She was long gone. However, all the times she laughed, the little things she said, the silly thoughts she thought stayed right here making my insides rot. The knot in my throat grew as big as a ripe apple and made it hard to breathe since then. I often see myself holding my veins in my hands, wrapping them around my neck and hanging myself from the ceiling. It has to stop. I woke up a few minutes before, feeling the terrible need to jump, to flap my arms all the way down to the ground. No need for breakfast, washing or clothes this morning, just jump.
Lost in my thoughts I almost forgot the guy next door staring at me with his mouth so open I can see his guts from here. What the hell is he looking at anyway? Has he never seen a naked man standing on a rail before?
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Meet The Neighbors (2Two2)
After the morning ritual was almost over and my face seemed that of a totally different human being, a better one, a cleaner one, a non suicidal one, adding something to my craving stomach would be almost the last step in the getting ready.
A cup of coffee, the tasteless one they sell in this country and some sliced bread topped with margarine and jam would suffice, wouldn't it? one; Slice of rye bread, reminds me of Salinger and I wonder how stupid I am, two; layer of thick yellowish salty margarine, Three; layer of gluey and possible expired blackberry jam that has lived in my refrigerator for the last four months. Perfect creation, I have always loved playing God.
I have also always wondered what would I reply to the stupid guy who came to ask me what I would like to eat for my last supper given the case I was sentenced to death row. A piece of meat I would say. A blue, still profusely bleeding thick steak sprinkled with black pepper. The funny thing is that you sprinkle black pepper on me in a couple of minutes I will look exactly as that last supper I would order in that given case.
Before having my last breakfast instead of that hypothetical capital penalty last supper, checking the weather was mandatory. Today would it be windy, foggy, bitter, hot, muggy, would there be a blizzard, meters of snow, a hurricane or a canicular heat, would I have to take the fall feeling the sunrays burning my face, the snow melting on my cheeks and neck, the mighty wind wildly blowing my hair, or the clouds or fog impeding me from seeing a thing, I would still definitely take the leap.
I had almost forgotten about the little guy who crashed and crushed against my glass but the heart shaped stain reminded on the spot. He /she had already and finally stopped breathing and looked so peaceful now; lucky you. I stepped out the balcony being extremely careful not to step on the little one. The body laying next to my foot was the most amazingly overwhelming proof of the magnificent intelligence of crows. I had seen them in this city using team work in order to rip a garbage bag and get a fulfilling dinner, using traffic in order to break nuts open, standing on high tension cables without ever getting fried, but it was the first time one of them committed suicide, for crying out loud.
I stuck my head over the balcony taking a quick glance left and right in order to get a grasp of the meteorological condition of my last day here, unfortunately I got more than that, much more. At the next door apartment, just meters away from me, a surprisingly totally naked guy was already standing on the balcony rail, how he kept his balance just beat me. Had the crow and this guy tacitly agreed on putting me to shame?
A cup of coffee, the tasteless one they sell in this country and some sliced bread topped with margarine and jam would suffice, wouldn't it? one; Slice of rye bread, reminds me of Salinger and I wonder how stupid I am, two; layer of thick yellowish salty margarine, Three; layer of gluey and possible expired blackberry jam that has lived in my refrigerator for the last four months. Perfect creation, I have always loved playing God.
I have also always wondered what would I reply to the stupid guy who came to ask me what I would like to eat for my last supper given the case I was sentenced to death row. A piece of meat I would say. A blue, still profusely bleeding thick steak sprinkled with black pepper. The funny thing is that you sprinkle black pepper on me in a couple of minutes I will look exactly as that last supper I would order in that given case.
Before having my last breakfast instead of that hypothetical capital penalty last supper, checking the weather was mandatory. Today would it be windy, foggy, bitter, hot, muggy, would there be a blizzard, meters of snow, a hurricane or a canicular heat, would I have to take the fall feeling the sunrays burning my face, the snow melting on my cheeks and neck, the mighty wind wildly blowing my hair, or the clouds or fog impeding me from seeing a thing, I would still definitely take the leap.
I had almost forgotten about the little guy who crashed and crushed against my glass but the heart shaped stain reminded on the spot. He /she had already and finally stopped breathing and looked so peaceful now; lucky you. I stepped out the balcony being extremely careful not to step on the little one. The body laying next to my foot was the most amazingly overwhelming proof of the magnificent intelligence of crows. I had seen them in this city using team work in order to rip a garbage bag and get a fulfilling dinner, using traffic in order to break nuts open, standing on high tension cables without ever getting fried, but it was the first time one of them committed suicide, for crying out loud.
I stuck my head over the balcony taking a quick glance left and right in order to get a grasp of the meteorological condition of my last day here, unfortunately I got more than that, much more. At the next door apartment, just meters away from me, a surprisingly totally naked guy was already standing on the balcony rail, how he kept his balance just beat me. Had the crow and this guy tacitly agreed on putting me to shame?
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Jumping Bird(s) (1One1)
The sudden crashing sound pulled me out of my sleep forcing me to push hard with my both hairless hands to avoid my heart from bursting out of my chest. Doing this I realized not only my torso, but also my back and forehead were drenched in thick acrid sweat.
The dazzling morning light combined with my drowsy brain slowly agreeing to work together with my senses made it hard to get at first, but my eyes glued by the dried out tears understood, little by little , what was in front of them.
The big black crow had smashed its head, definitely on purpose, against the huge crystal, leaving a heart shaped spot on the crackled windowpane. Lucky little bastard read my thoughts and got ahead of me, shoving in my face my slowness. Nonetheless I was meant to call it even soon.
Every single toothpick bone in this fragile body had to be crushed but the crow's heart was still beating, and its beak was desperately grasping for air. Should I even had worry about picking up the twisted bunch of bones and feathers? I opted not to, had more important things to do and stop doing.
Once in the toilet, I considered how brushing my teeth had never been a ritual, a monotone up-down-left-right-back-front movement performed three times a day (a sober one) in less than three minutes. Today was different of course. Even if I was chocking with my own teeth after the fall, or if they were spread all over the pavement, I wanted them to be as clean as heaven.
In the process, my gums started bleeding again; they had been doing it for the last three months; could I care less?
I needed to be dressed for the occasion asking myself if the event of jumping off my 25th floor window was tagged as a formal or a casual one? just could not make up my mind. I opted for my favorite pair of boxer underwear (the only ones that didn’t cut blood flow from my waist down), casual but expensive pair of washed-out jeans (never thought this fashion would perdure) and a black, pink collared polo shirt that she gave me a couple of years back.
Last shower time. Never got used to taking 45 minutes long steaming bath as she always did. My naked body had never entirely please me. Pinkish skin only a little darker in my arms, an abdomen that has been getting swollen with the years, hairy legs ending in hairy twisted toes.
Having dragged it under the jet, I allowed the water to do its job just giving time to time. It flowed from the top of my short haired head down my thick brows, girl-like lashes, green big closed eyes, rough chin. Let it cascade behind tiny ears, thick fleshy neck, freckled shoulders, all the way down those previously mentioned toes. A moment so filled with peace dangerously stepping in the realm of ectasy that made me wish I had the guts to die drowned instead.
A moment is just a moment though. Like the moment when I had it all because I had her. Like this moment when I am so depleted, light and hollow I tend to wonder if I will slowly float my way down after the jump. I stepped out the misty hot shower room and stared patiently at the face I was about to smash against the pavement, it was a pity, I still liked it a lot.
Perfume was important too, I am obsessed by odors, I read somewhere that our sense of smell is not as developed as that of many animals, mine surely is above human standards though. Some among the ones I love are burning pungent rubber, hot chocolate fudge, young female sweat. Light rain in the middle of summer, freshly crusty baked bread, the never-ending milky white caramel smell of the back neck of a Japanese woman. Recently disinfected toilet, French wine bouquet, the metal like smell of my hands after a long day of work having touched hundreds of objects previously touched by thousands of people. A new pair of leather shoes coming out from their box, steaming white rice, the inner part of her soft wrists. I couldn’t leave this room, this flat, this building, this city, this world expelling a bad odor.
The dazzling morning light combined with my drowsy brain slowly agreeing to work together with my senses made it hard to get at first, but my eyes glued by the dried out tears understood, little by little , what was in front of them.
The big black crow had smashed its head, definitely on purpose, against the huge crystal, leaving a heart shaped spot on the crackled windowpane. Lucky little bastard read my thoughts and got ahead of me, shoving in my face my slowness. Nonetheless I was meant to call it even soon.
Every single toothpick bone in this fragile body had to be crushed but the crow's heart was still beating, and its beak was desperately grasping for air. Should I even had worry about picking up the twisted bunch of bones and feathers? I opted not to, had more important things to do and stop doing.
Once in the toilet, I considered how brushing my teeth had never been a ritual, a monotone up-down-left-right-back-front movement performed three times a day (a sober one) in less than three minutes. Today was different of course. Even if I was chocking with my own teeth after the fall, or if they were spread all over the pavement, I wanted them to be as clean as heaven.
In the process, my gums started bleeding again; they had been doing it for the last three months; could I care less?
I needed to be dressed for the occasion asking myself if the event of jumping off my 25th floor window was tagged as a formal or a casual one? just could not make up my mind. I opted for my favorite pair of boxer underwear (the only ones that didn’t cut blood flow from my waist down), casual but expensive pair of washed-out jeans (never thought this fashion would perdure) and a black, pink collared polo shirt that she gave me a couple of years back.
Last shower time. Never got used to taking 45 minutes long steaming bath as she always did. My naked body had never entirely please me. Pinkish skin only a little darker in my arms, an abdomen that has been getting swollen with the years, hairy legs ending in hairy twisted toes.
Having dragged it under the jet, I allowed the water to do its job just giving time to time. It flowed from the top of my short haired head down my thick brows, girl-like lashes, green big closed eyes, rough chin. Let it cascade behind tiny ears, thick fleshy neck, freckled shoulders, all the way down those previously mentioned toes. A moment so filled with peace dangerously stepping in the realm of ectasy that made me wish I had the guts to die drowned instead.
A moment is just a moment though. Like the moment when I had it all because I had her. Like this moment when I am so depleted, light and hollow I tend to wonder if I will slowly float my way down after the jump. I stepped out the misty hot shower room and stared patiently at the face I was about to smash against the pavement, it was a pity, I still liked it a lot.
Perfume was important too, I am obsessed by odors, I read somewhere that our sense of smell is not as developed as that of many animals, mine surely is above human standards though. Some among the ones I love are burning pungent rubber, hot chocolate fudge, young female sweat. Light rain in the middle of summer, freshly crusty baked bread, the never-ending milky white caramel smell of the back neck of a Japanese woman. Recently disinfected toilet, French wine bouquet, the metal like smell of my hands after a long day of work having touched hundreds of objects previously touched by thousands of people. A new pair of leather shoes coming out from their box, steaming white rice, the inner part of her soft wrists. I couldn’t leave this room, this flat, this building, this city, this world expelling a bad odor.
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