I do not dare to take off my shoes, I already know my feet stink. She insists, saying it will ruin her carpet. I abide. The smell is yet too present. I stare at my feet, hoping to dull the stench but my host’s nostril is already folding down. Pretexting something I forgot, an errand to run, I slide my shoes back on and go. I did not greet the woman’s husband but out of respect, I escape. I walk quickly away from the shame, to get to my cat and eat the last crepes. I come towards the third block, not too close, not too far from work. I hope I have onion jam left. I could not finish the crepes with just lemon. I greet the ever-hunched neighbour, the guy did not get up to piss. I pretend laugh, as always. He’s dumb-dumb, but I do not want to ruffle him. I’ve always been told you have to know your neighbours, maybe family is passé. As soon as I get the key in the meowing comes. The asshole cannot do without me. He flies into my arms, licks my earlobes. I put him down while telling him about my day and figure how sad the situation is. I roll a crepe to eat by the window. Out of onion jam. The sun goes down, people are getting back home. I picture copious meals and gentle tease but maybe I’m idealising it all.
Greylight Projects Brussels
Rue de Brialmont 11
1210 Saint-Josse-Ten-Noode / Brussels
Metro 2/6 – Tram 92/93 : stop Botanique