paris, city, and travel image
Soft, cold air. Car horns. Coffee steam. Knitted socks. Bare knees. Crackling and popping noises from the vinyl, playing Thomas Dybdahls newest album. I might be broken, but I won´t hold back.

It´s September the 1st, year 2017. It feels like the air is getting colder and colder by the minute. Summer is over and autumn rain appears. It´s the beginning of a new end. And the end of a new beginning.

I´m sitting by the window sipping on some lukewarm coffee while looking at traffic flow. Cars honking at each other remind me of kids pushing each other in kindergarden when they fail at communicating. Maybe the road is just an acceptance of becoming a jackass to strangers, without getting affected or revealed. Come to think of it, drivers can be even more immature than those still playing with Lego.
Along the sidewalks, pedestrians seem to be in a hurry. Rushing down the street, busy with own thoughts. It´s seems like the city streets makes people lose identity. No ones enjoying presence, they just keep rushing ahead to another part of their day. And then there´s people like me, observing people´s mornings from my apartment, four floors up. Like the one going on for the loud businessman yelling at his phone while crossing the street. Wearing what appears like a million dollar suit and a pair of black threatening sunglasses, almost as if their pointing out the importance of this mans life and how he has no time to even recognize other peoples existence. I´m questioning if he is even able to crack a joke ones in a while and not always have this pouted look on his face. I wonder… what´s his story? Or the old man´s coming out of the bakery with freshly baked bread in a brown paper bag, which I just assume is for breakfast for him and his wife. For all I know, he could be a loner, having no one. So what is this old man´s story? Or the busy businessman´s?
I look down at my almost emptied coffee cup and my bare knees full of goose bumps because of the cold wind hitting the wide-open window. And I guess a question more pertinent to ask would be;

What is my story?

Text by Martine Andreassen

Thank you so much for reading this. Writing is a passion of mine, and this is the first time I publish something. Follow if you would like me to continue making more of this!