Stroll

The workaholic in me sometimes gets annoyed. I stop doing what I do for a living, turn off the PC, and go off. I have nowhere to go, though--even worse, I have no one to go to. Taking long strolls just for the fun of it has become one of my favourite and most recurrent time-killers in these days.

The guy who begot the concept of portable audio system (in my opinion)has long since earned his/her own place in heaven--not mention the thickest incomes ever. Thanks to this invention, we can now shield ourselves from anything we don't want to know about, anything we don't like, anything we don't care for. Other people contributed with more sophisticated portable music devices and, therefore, we can carry little universes in our pockets. We can make the soundtracks of our motion pictures/lives and outsiders can't bother. An unusual orchestra plays scores of longing on.

In this fancy shop there is an odd love seat I keep looking at for a long while. It seems to be an antiquity from a British explorer's repertoire. I can't explain the nature of this but, love at first sight does exist. Its compact frame offers a sturdy trust. Its simplicity says all and hides the best lines. Its inherent strange beauty makes me fall for it, because nobody else could see it under the same light I do. Its practical design enables it to camouflage itself into a heavy baggage box and I can't help but thinking how I would like to have it in my home, when I grow up and become a powerful person. On the next week it's gone. Some things are not meant to happen, anyway.

At certain hour I have the feeling someone is looking at me. I've never been stalked, as far as I know. A few years ago somebody told me that there is always someone looking at you from far away or from behind a tree or a column. I once noticed how someone I liked was stalking me but too late, when there was nothing left to do. The chaotic destiny plays all sorts of bad jokes. I'd like to be stalked by the blue eyes of a slim, tall, red-haired woman, or by the sweet glance of a dark-haired one. I've never stalked anybody (I´m a quite hard game, rather). Still, I stop feeling it.

I see things that I really wanted to get before but, now that I can afford them, I realize I don't need them. I can live on without them. Therefore, I get bored with everything I see (it's getting late and my spirits dwindle). What I really want cannot be purchased at all. No money can put some order to the chaos that rules life and drive us away from what we really want, what we'd really love to have. When I think of this I can't bear the helplessness of my current state. My walk loses the fun I initially sought. I lose the interest in everything around me as I listen to the sounds fading out in the empty streets. In the end, the outcome is the same. I feel as bad as if I had stayed at home to feel sorry for myself. Though that option was not better that the other one.

Yet, I keep walking. At home chances are lower. At least I'll be tired enough to worry about what I'd really love to have. Until the next week. Maybe I'll have better luck and be stalked by someone I really like.