It's midnight, and it's scorching - according to my internal thermometer, at least. I'm sitting in the window sill - in my shorts - trying to catch the frail gusts of wind, that manage to find it's way from the harbour. As usual, I should just go to bed - and read something to still my thoughts. Quell my mind.
The black-greenish bug that has been circling the lamp on my table just found the lightbulb. It's now limping sideways on the table. I'm somewhat puzzled by the lifeforce of the creature.
It's quiet. It's quieter here at Østerbro than at Christianshavn; or Nørrebro, where I lived years ago. I look down at the guy that just arrived on his bike. He finishes typing something on his cellphone. He parks his bike, and proceeds to unlock the front door to no. 14 across the street. I follow his figure up the stairs to the second floor.
I decide to try to end the suffering of the bug. I manage to hit it with the base of my hand. A drop of blood is smeared on my hand where I hit it. Apparently a mosquito - I wonder if it was me, that it got to. I wipe the blood off, and try forcibly to think of something else.
I can hear the S-train leaving Nordhavn in the distance. The guy upstairs starts his late-night exercises. I take that as my cue to go to bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment