Day 9-11
The dentist informed my I have to get three wisdom teeth removed, needless to say. I am not pleased. I don't not like dentists, and I do not like needles in my mouth or them breaking my teeth and removing them. I don't like the prospect of walking around with a swollen hurt face, getting painkillers and having the operation performed twice. Ah well, if I want to keep my perfect smile.
Anyway, no day nine. That was handwritten, but I have day ten and eleven for you. Both G and under the two hundred words.
I don’t know how often I had stood beside a conveyor belt holding my breath and wondering whether everything had arrived safely. It didn’t happen often. It was a couple of years ago that my suitcase had accidentally been sent to Mexico while I was heading for Hong Kong, but I still worried about it; probably because my whole life was in there. As a travelling artist I didn’t have much. I learned not to attach myself too much to places jobs and people. I found my suitcase, grabbed it and opened it. I rummaged through my clothes and found what I was looking for; a trifle thing for everyone else, but for me it meant I was complete. I had arrived fully. I know dared to look around, at the new colours of the faces surrounding me. I could look at the architecture. When I stepped outside and in the bus I looked around. I saw the people, the city, the life. I smelled. I tasted. With just a suitcase in my hand I told myself: “Welcome home, for now.”
“It’s complicated” she said as she looked away from me. It always was wasn’t it? Relationships, they twist and break you. You get guided by emotions broken down until you don’t know anymore what’s back and what’s forth and how you’ve ever felt unhurt and self confident.
I hit her. “No, it’s not. You love me and care for me. You’ll stop seeing him and we’ll be good again.” I said. It was a prayer I’d often repeated in my head. It was a desperate cry, an uttered hope, an outrage.
Her hand caressed her cheek which was already reddening. She glared at me: “Oh sod off.” She walked out on me and slammed the door shut.
Anyway, no day nine. That was handwritten, but I have day ten and eleven for you. Both G and under the two hundred words.
I don’t know how often I had stood beside a conveyor belt holding my breath and wondering whether everything had arrived safely. It didn’t happen often. It was a couple of years ago that my suitcase had accidentally been sent to Mexico while I was heading for Hong Kong, but I still worried about it; probably because my whole life was in there. As a travelling artist I didn’t have much. I learned not to attach myself too much to places jobs and people. I found my suitcase, grabbed it and opened it. I rummaged through my clothes and found what I was looking for; a trifle thing for everyone else, but for me it meant I was complete. I had arrived fully. I know dared to look around, at the new colours of the faces surrounding me. I could look at the architecture. When I stepped outside and in the bus I looked around. I saw the people, the city, the life. I smelled. I tasted. With just a suitcase in my hand I told myself: “Welcome home, for now.”
“It’s complicated” she said as she looked away from me. It always was wasn’t it? Relationships, they twist and break you. You get guided by emotions broken down until you don’t know anymore what’s back and what’s forth and how you’ve ever felt unhurt and self confident.
I hit her. “No, it’s not. You love me and care for me. You’ll stop seeing him and we’ll be good again.” I said. It was a prayer I’d often repeated in my head. It was a desperate cry, an uttered hope, an outrage.
Her hand caressed her cheek which was already reddening. She glared at me: “Oh sod off.” She walked out on me and slammed the door shut.