A rendez-vous with the Devine

Holland, Amsterdam,
22 July 2010.

They say that when you walk through the gates of Holy Jerusalem you will encounter the Devine...I might never have been to Jerusalem, let alone walk through the gates of this ancient city but I often feel like having a private rendez-vous with the spirits and ghosts that rule my sleeping hours when I drink dark red wine late at night, slowly getting melancholy in front of my telly, not understanding a word of what is getting on on the screen, talking heads turning into a misty background while I transport my drowsy semi-drunk mind to a higher plain of excistence...

The religious delusions of the fanatic devotees of God, Allah, Jesus Christ, Manitou or whatever one might call his personal chosen Higher being are way beyond me while I move to mental estates where voices of the past call out at me, "Why are you looking at me like that?"...."You are crazy, mister"...You are amazing, mister"...I move through dusty back alleys in thirds world cities where vomit and empty booze bottles are the norm and slutely dressed women eager to lure me inside obscure dark rooms where the matrasses are stained and dirty, the sperm remmannts of my predecessors clearly visible despite the dimly lit interior...

"Mister, all my friends have a game, I want a game too", the voice of a young Dutch boy bringing me back from beyond God's domain, back from the past - where was that, South America or maybe the dirty bars of Una Zona Nocturna in Mexico, maybe the voices of Phillipino Hunting Girls on Boracai or Pueto Gallera...whatever, game number thirty is sold and I am ready to go home, my body cold and clammy, shivering despite the hot Dutch summer weather...