I have been quite sensitive to smells lately which is pretty weird once I am not and, usually never smell things before they have burnt or something like that. I step out in the street and each step I take I can smell something different. Sadly, no matter how much of perfume I wear I can never smell it on me. Perhaps, it wears off easily.But, I sit on the bus and inevitably think.. Whenever there is a bad smell in the air; it simply ruins everything. The way you see people… Can’t respect anyone, no matter how smart, how beautiful. A bad smell will definitely ruin any bit of romanticism. It reminds you that we can’t take ourselves seriously. Ever. I picture Dostoevsky frowning to the odor and, idealism dying right there in front of the beautiful and elevated…couple,whose ‘i love you’ was garroted by a fart stench.
Took the fence and a lane the bus then the train, bought an Independent to make me look like I got brains
The other day I sat on the bus and watched out of the window. How the people would pass fast by and the houses and the trees. The sunshine illuminating the grass. Then I began to think of death. That, it seems so comfortable here (sometimes) and, that it will end. Someday, which I don't even know the date..it will be my final stop and I will never get to eat aubergine again.
I rarely get hurt and, I do not mean like a broken heart. I rarely get heartbroken too. However, I have been looking at my bandages and how I never get to use them. Surely, now and then I'll bump my feet into something. I'm sure this sounds weird. You see, it is not that I want to get hurt so I can use my bandages..it is that I realized I don't get hurt because I don't do anything. Because, I live in inertia. I don't even ride my bicycle anymore. The last time I rode it...I was going downhill quite fast and some insect went straight into my eyes and I braked hard and WOW..flipped down the hill. Result: bruises and muddy knees. Yeah, I got to use the bandages, at least.