Selections from the box
Well, here I am, sitting in a café populated by a large-nosed Spaniard, his tall and somewhat attractive girlfriend, an an attractive bartender. I have no idea what to write about. I feel good. I like this place, it makes me comfortable. Mellow music, no Americans, light enough to see, dark enough to fade into, you know. Sweet taste of café con Bailey's only a buck and change...better than Starbucks. Damn Seattle folk.
The Spaniard and (I assume) his novia (because Spaniards can't be friends with girls) just left, leaving me alone in this place with the bartender. Maybe I should go talk to her. I guess the only issue left here is to decide whether I want to talk to her or not. Indeed (efectivamente), this is turning into more of a "slice of life" than any sort of argumentative attempt. Sometimes, though, these are the pieces that are the most valuable.
The atmosphere is lovely. I'm forced to write by social graces. What I mean is, I couldn't, in a socially acceptable manner, just sit here and stare at the bartender. A sort of indirect, but pleasant discipline. I don't like to take photos. Indeed, each photo is an abortion of a thousand words. What's happening here? Some guy just walked in and is speaking in a disagreeable tone. I never saw his face.
This piece seems to lack a certain interest, but perhaps the meaning will be realized later.
Labels: from the box