This sunday is the funeral and wednesday the deadline for the paper on Nada of Carmen Laforet, then before the end of this month two short stories for the department publication.
He felt like he didn't even exist when he saw people giving advices and talking so fast and briskly, as usual, today in the department. They went to a café with hotspots so nearly everyone was with their laptops. He felt he didn't belong there the moment he saw them, it just didn't feel right, it's not saying that it was dirty or uncomfortable, on the contrary, the chairs, tea and temperature was perfectly fine and the toilet was spotless, but he just felt so out of place. He didn't like the modern, neat and "intellectual" feel of it. Those two guys sitting next to them talking about how much the whatever costed, every smile and every laughter from every corner seemed so artificial and theatrical, seems so unreal and far away.
Then they had dinner in another place which he frequented and liked a lot, they got some really nice rye breads, jams and vegemite. But tonight he loathed it. He thought he had lost the function to be happy. The paternal smiles, I know, yes, I understands, intellectual and not-so-intellectual conversations, I know it's not a problem for yous, everything, everything! Everything seems so unreal and external and he is but an empty shell roaming around in his vacant hell.
He felt like he didn't even exist when he saw people giving advices and talking so fast and briskly, as usual, today in the department. They went to a café with hotspots so nearly everyone was with their laptops. He felt he didn't belong there the moment he saw them, it just didn't feel right, it's not saying that it was dirty or uncomfortable, on the contrary, the chairs, tea and temperature was perfectly fine and the toilet was spotless, but he just felt so out of place. He didn't like the modern, neat and "intellectual" feel of it. Those two guys sitting next to them talking about how much the whatever costed, every smile and every laughter from every corner seemed so artificial and theatrical, seems so unreal and far away.
Then they had dinner in another place which he frequented and liked a lot, they got some really nice rye breads, jams and vegemite. But tonight he loathed it. He thought he had lost the function to be happy. The paternal smiles, I know, yes, I understands, intellectual and not-so-intellectual conversations, I know it's not a problem for yous, everything, everything! Everything seems so unreal and external and he is but an empty shell roaming around in his vacant hell.
2 comments:
My condolences after your uncle's death. Or wasn't your uncle? At least so I understood.
Takk.
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