CRAVE

I am just craving to go to France. Sit in a cafe. Listen to french people mumbling around me. Reading newspaper. Smoking cigar or cigarette. Smell of a great espresso. Fresh air. People walking steady and fast. Clean. Determined. Knowing or thinking they know where they are going. Elegant. Civilised. Grumpy. Cheerful. Clean blonde kids. Cute brunette kids with long curley hair. Small grociery shop selling fresh fruits. Flourists selling big blossomed yellow flowers. Cloudy sky. Cracks of some sun rays. Bicylces. Active yet not corwded streets. Smell of fresh baguette and freshly baked cake and gateaux. Great cheese.

I want to open my eyes in a small tiny room with big windows overlooking a small building entrance. Wooden floor. Take a fresh shower. Dress simply. Go down the small clean wooden stairs. Go out to my tiny street. Greet the annoying lady at the bakery shop. Get one fresh baguette. Go get a tiny piece of chevre. One red tomatoe. And ride my bike to a small cafe. Order coffee, eat my cheese and read. Watch people. Dont have to worry about a single thing. Live like this for sometime until I feel something.

Truth is. I can't live in this egypt anymore. It might be kind and nice place. But it is certainly not my place anymore. I feel like a stranger here and I feel out of place. Nothing interest me anymore here. I find that most things seem unfamiliar anymore. The people. The attitude. Me. And certainly him.

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