Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Leonie coming back into my life

Amsterdam, 08 07 2014.

I seem to remember she had some sort of dark secret, the sort of morbid and mysterious aroma pouring out of her female pores though without any verbal reference to what occupied her young mind, hiding her ovious good looks, a great Bern born hard body under several layers of second hand clothes, ruffled blond hair blowing in the wind while she walked next to me pushing her Ralleigh bicycle, asking me all sort of questions but hardly giving away much about her own life, some years ago when last I walked the Camino De Santiago in Northern Spain, my feet hurting like f*cking motherfrigging hell from the cobble stoned Camino, my shoulders smarting from the straps of my over-packed backpack, my old and trusty travel buddy but my shoulderblades protesting at the time to that defintion called "buddy", trying hard to make sence of her nonsense Fragen Ueber Das Leben Eines Mannes im Mittelalter...




Never really forgetting her even though our mutual encounter on the Camino Sagrado was short and had Pas D'Impoprtance in whatever department you might think of, apart maybe from the erotic thought that kept my crazy Gringo mind going while my smarting feet kept going, one foot in front of the other motherfrigging foot...

Instand recognition three days ago at the Anne Frank House when she stopped in front of my little mobile Mandala shop, the morbid and mysterious dank and dark female feromones still pouring out of her like  a drunk Farang sweating away in tropical Pattaya, overwelming my sences, bringing back instant recognition as though time had not moved in years of torment and confusion, the way I always experience the passing of time, the same ruffled unkempt hair and second hand layers of faded clothes, small backpack and plastic Appie Heyn bag full with personal belongings...

Of course I knew perfectly well why she was there, free board and accomodation foremost on her young confused mind...well, whatever, since the petting zoo Kharma building has come to such a sudden and drastic dramatic end I might as well do some sort of misguided good Samaritan act here and let her crash on my couch for some days...forget about the erotic thoughts that turned full force around that nubile body she hides unerneath these countless layers of faded cloth while being on the Camino of madmen...

Maybe I won't talk myself into her unwashed pants but at least talk her into posing for me...      

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