The Airportline: Observations

You sit at home and work a little. You talk on the phone, make some toast, brew some coffee, burn your tongue on your coffee, you bike out and head north, for one minute. You sit in a sofa and watch Swedish players not score against Hungarian players. You see Zlatan score when time is up, how he falls down on the wet grass while the Hungarian audience who just minutes before were singing their hearts out walk out. They are quiet and green and you are loud and confused. You drink beer and wounder what happened. The beer gives you no clues. You bike back south for one minute, you change clothes, you run down the stairs out into the dark night. You wounder if Sweden really won that football game. An atm gives you 30 Euros but no receipt.

You bike again, small rain drops land on your hair, it does not matter. You stop in a Belgian bar and an Indian man is yelling at the bartender. 'He is my boss' he tells you. 'I just want a beer' you tell him while he hides behind your back. You meet people you know and talk about things that you now have forgotten, you have to go and get more people you know. You walk dark streets cause darkness is the only color of the night. More beer is arriving and people are moving places and you go to the bathroom. You take the girls toilet cause you see no difference. The light in the bar turns on and you walk out on the street and some Greek and Czech men are the group of people which you are one part of. No one knows where home is so we go to another bar. And beers are given to you and you drink them and new lights come on and the only thing to do is to bike home. And you walk up the stairs again and you drink water and eat rendang beef with rice and you watch the Daily Show. Then you fall asleep and when you wake up the first thing your head does is showing you the finger. Fuck you. He says and you go back to sleep.

You wake up again and now you sit and listen to Taken By Trees.