village
With no more than a trace of existence
here, Bruxelles, I am still running into people as if I had grown up
here on the inside of a little loop. I just met the right fuckers at
the right time to stay in contact, similar timing, similar disease,
similar confusion, similar fear, similar repetition. Turning up in
the same circles, in the same squares, is anyone going hungry? Do you
need a little of this or that? What more do you want? I barely want
the juice to make a slurpy, but it is a kind of a treat.