At a party warm October, I'm on a terrace''''''Party''for a starting 3 of my good friends who leave Vietnam for good. Still starts. I'm not complaining too much, that's life I chose. But this evening, there was a newcomer. Belgium. He stared at something in the air head. I asked him what was happening and he told me he is hallucinating, seeing the millions of electric son walking around in the air perpendicular to the street. Thousands of cables dangling all sorts and are moving in all directions. In the same breath, one of our friends told him to be careful while walking in the street because his friend got a shock Power Frolla one of these cables was a bit too low. I had a sort of creepy in the back. I do not even m'appercois there are thousands of son. They are part of the landscape ... as the roof of the house. And Belgium continues to set the sky. I
descents m'appercoit stairs and there are two children who sleep on a mattress between the crate of bottles of coke ... the second floor of the restaurant, between two tables. Because, here, usually, the family lives in the restaurant. In the evening, you look in the windows of shops and you see the mattresses and piled the family in front of a fan jostling for their piece of the mattress. And everything is normal rendering. It is part of quotidient.
...
Last week, I'll get my bicycle to the park. I hate this car. It's an old building désafecté. I smell moisisure and there's nothing clean. I hate people who work there. They look stupid. It does not concern me. Do not respond to my greetings. They leave my bicycle still below the large holes in the roof. That evening it rained. I'll get my bike, of course covered with water. At the left, I asked the lady to give me his towel to wipe it usually use my bench. She ignores me as usual. I am impatient and took myself I see the rag hanging on the wall and wipes my bench. It starts to run and make me signs that it is to wash the rag FIG. Criss. The guy arrives. I really hate him. He has a big jackass. It pogne nerves. Kicks off on my bicycle. Speaks loudly with words I do not understand. I'm leaving, but about being a good citizen, I will in a small shop and bought a new rag. Cute and more. With a price that these people can not afford. I'm back in the car park and a sign that the lady is far more that I leave a package on his''office''. It starts to run, opens the bag, looks at me with big eyes and gives me the bag. I motioned to him that I 'm sorry, it makes me happy, I want to give him the clothes. She begins to cry, give me back the bag. I laid upon her chair, makes him a smile and get ready to go. It POGNE nerves. Gives me the bag and shouted.
Well, what I did.
A client comes to me and say that the lady is supertisieuse and it's a lot of bad luck to receive a piece of cloth to wash her face ... Or something like that. I'm putting the lady even more cursed. And then I wonder why I kill me to endure all this ... Here I am the minority. Everyone's eyes follow me because I'm different. Sometimes, it's been shit.
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