Barcelona, 16 Nov. 2012,
I don´t really need dozing in a plastic chair back at Sant Station waiting for my Euro Lines bus, annoyed at little black African children wailing, bored shitless while waiting for their bus up north to the Land Of Honey, Mummy giving me the accusatory look like it is all my fault she has got no control over her offspring, or maybe the accusation goes even further back, all the way to the Dutch and English slave trade...shit, I wasn´t even born then but will have to put up with the bloody blame nonetheless,
Tipsy men laughing while knocking down cheap Estrella beer proving to me that bus station are the same the world over, a haven for semi-professional drunks and homeless losers...
a bunch of taxis parked at the curb waiting for arriving travellers, their drivers are as bored as these aforementioned black enigre kids, reading La Vanguardia without any real interest...
Wainting for a bus back to wherever home is supposed to be these days while surrounded by crying babies and fustrated Big Black Mommas, overhead speakers annoucing the arrival and departure times, people who try to hard to look important, trying to look like businessmen in motballed suits that could fall apart at any given minute reading El Pais, middle aged people seemingly bewildered and probably on a social visit to son or daughter who is trying his or her luck outside of economically battered spain carrying hold-alls and duffels full with worthless belongings...
A definite feeling of duplication and Deja Vu in full progress here and will be my main obstacle tommorow...17.00 h. departure time for my bus to good old mokum, and all that comes with it...
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