Cookie merits

Amsterdam, 15 april 2014.

Fifty stories up I have to go in the dusty corners of my crazy and rambling mind, senilic and suffering from constant turmoil, rambling memories going Honky-Tonky creating chaos and mental nuttiness, fifty stories and counting to find a semblance of the true me...

Rusty stairs with several rungs missing, a testimony to old age approaching fast and furious,a lot here in these dark twilight zones is seriously amiss, the air stinking of corrupting rot, empty files once full but now eaten away by imaginary cockroaches, too much Thai moonshine wisky and cheap beer, no bodyguards to stop me from entering my own private domain, the part of me I hate and fear at the same time...

My skin is clammy, my pulse rapid, rapid and shallow breathing, I am in shock, I can't feel my fingers...

I have to find the answer, it is why I have come up here despite my growing despair and angst, why buy cookies and offer them to my younger customers, never mind whether or not Mum gives them five cherished Euros to buy a game, a child's smile should be ample reward, but No I keep thinking about that daily one Euro disappearing into that Appie Heyn supermarket cash dispender, nothing to win here but the Gran Sonrisa of international kids waiting to see the world famous Achterhuis...

Brightly colored cycle gear and slightly overweight, an expensive Tour De France Bicicleta I wish I had to cash to buy, the free time to tour, the owner cocksure walking over, a green five note between beefy fingers...no what does he want looking like he knows all and everything about Pauvre Moi...?

"Hey Mon you gave my daughter a sinamon cookie the other day when we was waiting in this freaking line, now she keeps talking about your games, give me a red one okay?" "I had to cycle 45 kilometers back to Amsterdam to buy one for her, so don't disappoint me, okay Mon".

Ah yes now I know, there is merit in cookies after all...