Can I have a Peroni, please?
I sit in this creative space, a café that turns into a bar in the evenings (like all creative spaces do), and I just want to not think of all the stuff. The important grown-up stuff. If we only could be young forever, roam the streets and forget about tomorrows and the days after that. I scroll through my phone, I’ve reached out to all of them. They are all sick, on vacation, at work, at this or that or just home. And peoples life just goes on and on, I can’t believe how time scares me, how we never pause, how most of us are living in tomorrow – where it happens, where life starts.
Let’s just reinvent ourselves. Let’s live life. Let’s treat every day as a bonus. We could have died. It is an reality.
After having all these thougths on the five step walk from the bar I sit down at my laptop, the light is now more red than yellow – perks of being a bar, you can have red lights – and write this.
As I am sipping on my cold beer, overhearing two Swedish girls chitchatting and telling secrets I can’t get this thought out of my head. ‘We can die tomorrow, life can end’. Let me say that again, life can end tomorrow. Blackness, nothingness, end. This is one of the strongest driving forces in my life.
And because this is England, they have a minimun card charge. I go up, head over to the bar and order another one, so I can pay for my first one.