nolēmu atkal apciemot morru

iebraucot pilsētā, uzreiz atmiņā iepriekšējie braucieni, šīs pazīstamās šaurās ielas, tramvaji, neizburtojamās iestādes, sophisticated vending machines everywhere. atcerējos kā toreiz nezināju, kā pie viņa tikt. šoreiz izglābj apple ar find friends - redzu kā morra zvērīgā ātrumā kustas pa šoseju, nolēmu, ka brauc vienā no tiem pārātrajiem vilcieniem. pietuvojos street view un skatos - nē, viņš patiesībā skrien, kustas ātrāk nekā jebkas cits uz tās ielas, kas patiesībā nemaz nav šoseja. atpazīstu viņa latvijas karoga krāsu tērpu no kaut kur iepriekš redzētajām bildēm

zinu, kur atrast, but i end up chasing him around the city, as there is no way i can run as fast as he does. beidzot panāku viņu no aizmugures kādā pāršaurā gājēju-velo ieliņā, šķiet, nomurminu kaut ko, viņš pagriežas, neatpazīst, tad apstājas un smaidā pasveicina mani. vienmēr forši būt morras klātbūtnē. satiekam megu, abi dodas uz mājām, i follow

ar megu runājam angliski, viņa ziņkārīgi man jautā par latviju, skotiju un maniem iespaidiem par japānu thus far. vienubrīd sarunas gaitā viņas seju pārklāj melna ēna, morra uzreiz piesteidz un paskaidro megu, ka latvieši tā nedara, tāpēc es varētu nobīties; pieņemu, ka uz to brīdi uz manas sejas bija šausmas. megu nokautrējas, šoreiz viņas sejā zila ēna, bet viņa momentā to pazudina, so that i don't freak out completely

morram šoreiz ir pusgari, tuvu melni mati, tumši brūnas acis -- jo ilgāk viņš tur dzīvo, jo grūtāk ir palikt gaišmatainam latvietim, nodomāju es. taču viņam šķiet, ka viņš aizvien gaišs eiropeisks puika ar latviešu-igauņu asinīm, so be it, nodomāju es, taču nākamajā brīdī es viņu tieši tā arī redzu, un tagad arī mati nešķiet tik gari

turpmākajās dienās pilns ar piedzīvojumiem - dzēsām ugunskuru ananāsu krūmā, braucām ar kalnu velo pāri lielceļiem ar tramplīniem, piedzīvojām divu ekshibicionistu priekšnesumu. mēģināju noskaidrot, kas īsti ir tās melnās un zilās ēnas, ko gan megu, gan morra prata pārvilkt pāri savām sejām, taču uzzināju tikai to nozīmi - melnā ēna nepārprotami rāda izbrīnu, zilā - kautrīgumu, something you can learn to do, apparently, but it's only really reserved for the japanese. nopūtos un pieņemu to kā ir. kas i', tas i'

had an update to one of my dreamlines

me and my brother decided to return to cambodia where we had bought some land four years ago while travelling with our father. we booked the same hotel, found the guys that were keeping an eye on it, and set off to find it. not much had changed in those four years; there were lots of unfinished buildings all around, it seemed like bits of spain during the recession. the landplot that we had bought actually had a free-standing concrete box in the middle of a meadow, with no windows or doors, or even floors, just gray walls. the two locals that we had bought it from seemed really eager to show us how everything is still the way it was when we bought it, so they were showing the premise with pride, they're really dedicated to being proud of their work, it seemed. after all, we didn't really have any papers to say this land belongs to us, so it was pretty much up to them to show us that no paperwork is necessary when you're dealing with someone as trustworthy as themselves.

so we went in, the two removed manhole covers in the main room and continued explaining how they check these on a daily basis to make sure everything's alright. once the covers were removed, we saw an infant in each manhole, calmly just floating on top of the liquid. they had clean clothes, looked healthy and overall really contempt with what is happening. the locals took them out, shook some dust off the infants' backs without stopping their streams of pride over their work. they almost seemed like guides showing off local landmarks, not pausing even to take a good breath. once the show was over and we were satisfied with the status quo, we wandered off to explore other newly built concrete boxes on our own.

once we returned to the hotel, i wondered whether the hotel had finally gained the three star status, as last time we stayed there the owner seemed a bit frustrated that these were so hard to get, even if you've essentially got the whole package. he wasn't really complaining though, because they were never short of business.

we went into a basement carpark, also abandoned during the bubble. the walls and ceilings were so wavy that it seemed like some bits of the ceiling are about to crack open and collapse on you, i managed to persuade my brother to leave quickly

as time went by and we were just wandering around the streets, i kept on thinking how persuasive and manipulative the locals can be. soon enough suspicion grew - what if the infants were actually not real? what if they're just well made realistic-looking dolls that you play with when you're little? what if all of this was another story of gullible tourists falling for the tales locals spit out left and right? i don't remember if i returned and had a second look down the manholes. i was probably too afraid to face the reality of having been f-ed over, again