please keep in mind that this was all just a dream, so it makes the story a little more interesting, especially when you consider how much thought was happening while i was actually still asleep.
i was in a hotel in africa, and i picked up a copy of wired magazine. just as i was starting to get bored by the articles, i turn to a story about a small town in bulgaria, which, as it happens, was written by my friend richard cherry.
i get so excited by this, that i head down to a cafe, and try to write a quick note to him in my journal. the waiter comes up to me and speaks to me in a language i don't know, and i simply respond with "coffee, please". he seems impressed that i knew what he was saying, and says something else to me in his language and hurries off to get my order.
i look down the street, and notice an open air market, with hundreds of people scurrying about getting on with their lives, and i decide that i should go check that out later, but i make the realisation that i should probably leave my wallet back at the hotel, because this looks like the kind of crowd that you can't trust.
while continuing to sit there, ignoring the note i had started to write, it all of a sudden it occurs to me that there is a small dog peeing on the leg of my table, and the urine is then splashing on to my leg and shoe. i kick the dog away, and turn back to my note, which has now blown away, and i have no idea where it has gone.
i decide that it was a silly idea to have been writing a note to richard in the first place, since i only have his email address, but also understand that writing things down while traveling is a much more romantic way of capturing my thoughts and stories.
while scanning the ground surrounding me to try and see if i can recover my wind swept note, i see an old leather bound journal sitting about 3 or 4 meters away from me, and think that perhaps i might go and pick it up, and use that as my new journal. and i would make an honest effort to write more things down, and even try to doodle/sketch. and i think about how neglected my blog has been, and that perhaps i should contribute something to it soon, but i don't feel that i have anything worthwhile, or anything that people would be interested in reading.
i realise that if i wrote more, i could be as good as richard some day.
then again, maybe not.
Showing posts with label africa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label africa. Show all posts
12.3.07
another dream
please keep in mind that this was all just a dream, so it makes the story a little more interesting, especially when you consider how much thought was happening while i was actually still asleep.
i was in a hotel in africa, and i picked up a copy of wired magazine. just as i was starting to get bored by the articles, i turn to a story about a small town in bulgaria, which, as it happens, was written by my friend richard cherry.
i get so excited by this, that i head down to a cafe, and try to write a quick note to him in my journal. the waiter comes up to me and speaks to me in a language i don't know, and i simply respond with "coffee, please". he seems impressed that i knew what he was saying, and says something else to me in his language and hurries off to get my order.
i look down the street, and notice an open air market, with hundreds of people scurrying about getting on with their lives, and i decide that i should go check that out later, but i make the realisation that i should probably leave my wallet back at the hotel, because this looks like the kind of crowd that you can't trust.
while continuing to sit there, ignoring the note i had started to write, it all of a sudden it occurs to me that there is a small dog peeing on the leg of my table, and the urine is then splashing on to my leg and shoe. i kick the dog away, and turn back to my note, which has now blown away, and i have no idea where it has gone.
i decide that it was a silly idea to have been writing a note to richard in the first place, since i only have his email address, but also understand that writing things down while traveling is a much more romantic way of capturing my thoughts and stories.
while scanning the ground surrounding me to try and see if i can recover my wind swept note, i see an old leather bound journal sitting about 3 or 4 meters away from me, and think that perhaps i might go and pick it up, and use that as my new journal. and i would make an honest effort to write more things down, and even try to doodle/sketch. and i think about how neglected my blog has been, and that perhaps i should contribute something to it soon, but i don't feel that i have anything worthwhile, or anything that people would be interested in reading.
i realise that if i wrote more, i could be as good as richard some day.
then again, maybe not.
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