CatCam

Mr. Dellamorte, the meat grocer, a hearty grin on, wrapped the papersheet into a sausage slice and handed it over.

I must have looked a little confused, like I am, when arriving over there.

“Did I really order ten grams?” I asked myself.

The supervisor in the reception office was a friendly appearance with a ginger plate.

She looked convincingly stable.

The acommodation was not so bad for the few days, the room was clean and had a fridge and TV.

I am a writer and pensioned for mental insanity, someone who needs a place to sit and drink coffee, read papers, make notes, watch birds and people and think about things.

I don’t feel like a lost stranger at places like this, my cautious couriosity and inconspicious personality make me quite easy accomodate to another rhythm of life.

I am, which may seem special, used to talk to myself.

People may think I’m crazy, so it has to be true.

This doesn’t mean I’m too stupid.

I perceived curious acoustic phenomenons the other night, as well as I noticed the presence of tingling tension and greedy lust.

It felt like the house had been covered under a mighty lucid medusa* that kept the overnighters below a jelly grip of fascination and restlessness.

I saw that girl on the corridor in front of a mirror, working eagerly on her spots, and noticed her nervously triptrapping between her room and the shower place in little clothes.

Her friend had left the house through the side exit, wearing a fashionable jogging suit that appeared to me like a combination between a diving overall hoodie and a Zorro costume.

The young couple didn’t look as if he was out for early morning sports.

Average tourists might become scared.

If one knows what it’s about, it’s exciting entertainment.

A good place to hang out in a watching distance and invent a real story.

* Medusa – latin word origin ( fr. méduse) =  jellyfish