Every time I am in a southeast Asian travel situation I see doppelgängers of myself 40 years earlier in high heels and dressed in what seemed Asian High Class Chic, in full regalia of makeup and sculptured hair. Looking at the time-travel twin in front of me now: she is ridiculous not knowing her clinging outfit reveals too much of a bum, the slit of her dress shows too much of a very white and unevenly-teinted thighs that she doesn't know what to do with, Asian protocol requiring her to move her legs sideways to not be too revealing; yet whichever way she wriggles, there is simply too much showing. Her whiteness and thinness looks contrived and unhealthy, and I imagine a man in lust wanting to place a hand on that thigh going up to that bum and I think the only words coming to mind is : "lack of appetite". The two shadow-ladies on the side are busy on their smartphones: the only sign of time travel.
It's a long road from an avatar of that creature to this negligently-coiffed
could-definitely-shed-a-few-kilos workaholic and
certainly-can-use-a-few-euros-more Jackie-of-all-trades and
resident-of-airport-halls, not
really caring if I remembered or forgot the camouflage of makeup this morning, and certainly a total outcast of a certain financial and social status that
contemporaries from the "my time" has long since arrived at.
Well well, but hasn't this road been fun though.
(April 13th, 2017 8:52 am)
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