Our Eyes Made Love (War Can Wait)

For some reason, I just realized that Donna Summer is one of the greatest artists ever. Not as outstanding as Prince, but okay.

War is so much easier

I finally found the bookshop I was looking for – I always get lost. By the way there are a lot of bookshops in Bucharest, more than in Antwerp.

And it’s always a pleasure to see so many people reading here. Especially on public transport, like on the tram, or on the subway, or on the buss.

I guess some people still dare to dream here. (Let’s hope they don’t only pursue the American Dream since that one merely seems to be a cover-up for the outrageous lack of democracy.)

Then again, what else can they do? Action wise, they could learn a few things from us though. Europe has so much to offer.

One and one can become tree. Yet, few see it lately. We’re heading back to war – great present for your children, well done!

Few people read in Western Europe. Well, at least not enough people. And certainly not often enough.

Everybody is too busy waisting life on social media or falling asleep in front of the television, the cheapest and most accepted drug ever – although some series nowadays can compete with movies.

But what can you expect if back home we even have writers who don’t read? They don’t like the metier, they just want to be famous.

As if a writer could ever be notorious in Europe?

And still they all write the same shit. Maybe they should pick up reading again to avoid that?

Romanian women are so damn sexy

“Can I help you?” she asked in Romanian. (Well, I think she did – I don’t speak the language so for all I know she said ‘fuck you’.)

I checked her out. Small tits (but that’s okay since I have small hands), great ass, beautiful face – a bit fake innocent, but I felt she was a dirty one.

You most definitely can, honey.

“Yeah,” I replied when I was pointing to the computer screen, “I’m looking for this book.”

“Aha, you’re English. Welcome to Bucharest.”

“No, I am not. I am Belgian. But I read and write in English.”

“Aha, Brussels.”

“No, Antwerp. The city of diamonds. Brussels sucks, wrong side of the country, those fuckers still insist on speaking French, which I only do in France.”

“I see, we have your book in stock,” she said. My book? It’s not published yet, as far as I know.

“Please follow me, I will show you.” Anytime baby. My god, are you really going to walk up those stairs in front of me?

‘Could it be magic?’ Is it my imagination or is she wiggling that gorgeous ass? A bit young though – as always lately, but women of my age just can’t be found.

No idea where they are hiding.

“Anything else I can do for you?” Are you fucking kidding me? She handed me the fucking book.

“No, thank you. You’ve been most helpful. You’re a star.”

She flashed me the most beautiful smile in the world and walked away. Damn, fuck it.

A horny man never stops

“Excuse me,” I said, “maybe one more thing.”


“This is going to sound completely wrong, but if you want to go for a drink after work, I will be at that cheap student place around the corner: ‘Revenge’.”

She started laughing. “You’re crazy man. Don’t wait for me.”

“I won’t. I never do.”

(Our eyes made love.)

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