| Voyeurism pie stures |
Aug. 21st, 2010|09:02 pm |
A few hours earlier it had struck me that I could never know what it would be like to be an 18-year old woman - not anymore. (the breasts and the slightly vacant questioning face turned to a (adjective unknown) world. But now, by the traffic lights, I understood the deep disappointment gently and sadly pulsing from a woman waiting for the lights to change. She was looking at the man crouching in the security of the straight-backed frog pose (a posse of frogs in every park corner), who with great studied pofismu had just swaggered across the road ignoring the horns and accusatory gestures of the drivers.
She went to join him, slowly as a bottle drifting discarded in the Daugava.
In the backseat, my daughter finished an anecdote and was asking "Nu, ko? A tu vispār klausies?, ko, KO?"
Un sapratu, ka, te atrodos Latvijā, vietā, kur nevaru plostot: kur man ir jācenšās. Tātad, meģināšu jūms to stāstīt latviski.
Pirms dažām stundām es biju sapratis to, ka es nekad (vairs) nevarēshu zināt, proti kā tas ir būt 18 gadīgo sieviete (šo sapratu, kad skatijos uz sievieti ar lielām krūtim un neaizņemtu seju (sejai, tomēr ar jautājumiem (īpašības vārds - nezinams) pausalei). Bet tagad, pie luksoforiem (fuck the long signs), es sapratu tās vilšanās, kas maigi un bedīģi nāk no sievetes, kas gaidīja zaļo gaismu. Viņa skatijas uz savu vīrieti. Vinš sedēja kā varde, un viņs tikko bija (ar lepnu gaitu) šķērsojis ceļu, ignorejot šoferu apvainojošos žestus(?).
Viņa gaja pie viņa, tik leni, kā pamesta pudele, kas peldās Daugavā.
Ugh...... |
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