| Whimsy I can't be arsed to translate |
[Feb. 18th, 2010|11:36 am] |
couple of things - on the microbus
she takes the phone and begings to type - I will look for it tomorrow, my
then she stops and types sweet,
which she then deletes and replaces with puisit,
and folds the phone over and holds it to her heart
His messages she reads so quickly - they are along the lines of I'll miss you
It's like this all the way to Baloži
The next day, he gets on at Ramava.
He has a long black coat over thin shoulders,
He doesn't shut the sliding door properly
and tries to push it forward while the van is already moving,
which of course is hard.
He stands a while before he roots out a purse, which
he unzips slowly.
He is tall and slight and young
A wispy tache on a thin face
with thin lips
His clothes are of old fabric,
he has a blck trilby and when you see his sleeves stick out from his long black coat, you see that are starched and densely woven.
He sits next to a quiet polite older gent,
but swings his legs into the aisle and looks out of the window opposite with rapt attention,
as if looking for something/at everything.
Between him and the window is a girl in a white puffy jacket
and jeans and boots a little scuffed, who plasters herself against the window
a little distressed.
and later, the one thing I remember, after talking about the meal intelligently was to walk along the streets of Riga, by the bridge where I carried my pregnant bride. A girl bowed to me and I bowed back, and then crawled along the bridge, naked as far as i can remember. |
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