Stranger Than Paradise
After taking long walks, we finally entered a bar. The day was conceivingly sunny. As the night fell, the urge to find a warm place reminded us of a cold, long and lonely winter. Luckily, the heating was turned on inside. The bar was getting busy, but not fully packed yet. We found a free table close to the door. One of us brought the beers. The cold touch of the glass was giving me shivers. We were watching people who entered and left the place. Kurt Cobain, Henry Rollins, Bon Jovi also payed a visit to the bar that night.
Most of the time the door was ajar. Only a few of those who entered had the perfect swing to close the door. It was not about power, more about unknown, high-level adjustment to the object, I guess. ’They say people eat the way they make love. Do you think it is the same with closing a disfunctional door properly?’ - I asked. Both of you were laughing and I put on my coat.
I was taking a sip from my second glass of beer when he entered. The door closed completely. Still holding the glass to my mouth, I stopped drinking. I focused my eyes on his steps to the bar. What attracted me to his existence is hard to say. He just looked insolently young and beautiful.
I imagined to get into a conversation with him. I heard innocent questions. Naiv but well-placed questions and I heard simple answers. Then there was silence. After that, I touched his soft skin and I tasted his sweet kisses. They felt new, but familiar at the same time. Here it was. Out of nowhere he showed up again with the promise of tomorrow. I got lost in his presence.
He grabbed his beer from the counter and walked to another table. When he reached the table, his friends greeted him aloud ’Hey Spring, how you doing?’ - ’I’m doing fine’ he answered and he took a seat in a comfortable, second hand armchair. I knew he was going to stay long. I turned back to my friends. The door was still closed and I took off my coat.
Most of the time the door was ajar. Only a few of those who entered had the perfect swing to close the door. It was not about power, more about unknown, high-level adjustment to the object, I guess. ’They say people eat the way they make love. Do you think it is the same with closing a disfunctional door properly?’ - I asked. Both of you were laughing and I put on my coat.
I was taking a sip from my second glass of beer when he entered. The door closed completely. Still holding the glass to my mouth, I stopped drinking. I focused my eyes on his steps to the bar. What attracted me to his existence is hard to say. He just looked insolently young and beautiful.
I imagined to get into a conversation with him. I heard innocent questions. Naiv but well-placed questions and I heard simple answers. Then there was silence. After that, I touched his soft skin and I tasted his sweet kisses. They felt new, but familiar at the same time. Here it was. Out of nowhere he showed up again with the promise of tomorrow. I got lost in his presence.
He grabbed his beer from the counter and walked to another table. When he reached the table, his friends greeted him aloud ’Hey Spring, how you doing?’ - ’I’m doing fine’ he answered and he took a seat in a comfortable, second hand armchair. I knew he was going to stay long. I turned back to my friends. The door was still closed and I took off my coat.
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