breathing
it has gotten dark very fast and the light has turned pink and menacing, as if a thunderstorm was about to break loose. the electric lights on the wall of the little café by the beach are flickering every now and then like lightning.
“what are you thinking?” jodie is asking me.
“hm, dunno. wish i had brought my guitar. or that i could work on getting ‘dialogues’ right. i have this increasingly weird feeling that life is too short, that there are a million things i still want to do and that even hanging out here with you, with the sea just behind the dunes, it feels like, hm, like it isn’t right.”
“yeah, i think i know what you mean. it’s not very flattering for me, though!” she’s laughing.
“yep, i know. i remember how i once said to somebody when she suggested that we’d go on vacation together that i don’t want to go because it would feel like a waste of time…”
“you can be so fucking charming!”
“i can, indeed!”
“have another dutch cookie…”
“you know how to make me happy.”
the past nights i had the weirdest sensation before falling asleep. when i was lying in bed i suddenly felt a weight upon my chest, even when i turned on the side it wouldn’t fall off. it felt like suffocating : even though i was breathing in deeply and consciously and slowly the air didn’t seem to reach my lungs. as if i was breathing in a vacuum. usually i lie there for three, four minutes and then the pressure and panic is so overwhelming that i’m getting up, and usually it gets better then. what is this? age? neurosis? psychosis? wrong mix of chemicals in the brain?
