autumn

The summer has gone and people are slowly withdrawing back in their flats. The truths about summerdreams start to float at the surface of autumnlife. The blond, cute guy I kinda fell in love with is now married. He travelled with his new love to Istanbul and married there, this Sunday they will get their rings tattood and they give a party in his flat here in the city. The other guy I liked also found his true love near the end of august. He met her at a festival on an island. And as for me, well, it turned out very well with this Iranian guy. We kissed, made love, we saw ‘Layla o Majnun’,

and ‘Romeo and Julliet’.

We talked about true love till death will part us. But then I bumped into a culture gap too wide too cross for the moment. Every time I saw him, he said:

‘I hate all black people.’

‘You’re a racist.’

‘No, it’s not their skin colour. It’s the way they act and talk. Their voices are too loud, their gestures too dynamic.’

One time he said this when I had just returned from a week together with four Congolese people. All week long I had danced, shaking my ass as if my life depended on it. I had discussed Congolese versus Western life with them. It had not been easy, it’s hard to overcome prejudices, from both sides. After that week, I could not kiss with my Arab love, saying he hated black people. So I decided to break up the dream we had shared for a couple of weeks. Now the leaves are turning yellow and red, and I am left alone in my flat.