spent the afternoon wandering aimlessly in festival city waiting for sam to meet me for some ikea shopping. (ikea has to be simultaneously the most exciting and the most dull, drug-inducing place of routine, but more on that some other time)
i did some people watching~
a beautifully serene arab woman with decadent kohl-lined eyes and endless lashes, wheeling herself around in a wheelchair, stopping occasionally to fix her abaya which kept slipping off her head~
a bored gum-chewing, hoodie-wearing filipino girl-at a stall selling chinese masks-perched on a stool, clacking her gum, jerking her foot around so it kept clanging on the foot rest~
a redolent red & obscurely black interior of a french tea shop called hediard. Seeming a sin to sip ordinary tea in an ordinary life, it almost begged romantic assignations & dashing, cigar-smoking lebanese hatching plots & coups.
2 snappy young french women-one in black stockings which made her shapely legs look impossibly long, and one with a blossoming bosom & generoud crimson pout-walking briskly, posture at attention, enunciating perfectly in guttural french . miniscule designer bags talking of wispy lingerie, held carelessly, hair gleaming & swinging, heels clicking, leaving a waft of strong perfume in their wake.
the filipino girl is now swinging her legs freely in the air, jauntily almost. now she stops. takes down her bun and ties it up again.
a pretty man in tight black leather & shiny pointy european shoes, dark black spectacles- tousled hair is his only claim to being blase-hands in his pocket, glancing dismissively at the shops as he walks away – i imagine he walks away to complete his 3,000 words intellectual piece on how freud destroyed human behaviour or some such.
the filipino girl has a customer! oh no, he’s walking away. she takes this opportunity to move around her stall, bends down to peer at some statuettes, straightens up and looks around with a nonchalance which displays her inner distress.
the phone rings~ mine, not the filipino girl’s. sam is on his way. onwards to ikea-a curiously enraging place.
(more on that later)