I’ve moved the boat. And parked right opposite the flat of a really old lover (old as in longstanding, not in age). But he’s a very busy person, so he’s not living there right now. Which is a shame, because I could have gone to take showers at his nice place and drink his fancy gin. I did send him a picture of me though, in front of the boat, holding a hammer, his flat in the background. He said it was amazing, although probably it was more like whatever. I doubt he’s reading, because he’s always so busy, but if you are, hello you. Pigeons are shitting on your balcony. And I’m shitting in plastic bags.
This new spot is such a pigeons hotspot. And it is because people come once a day to throw them bread, which they shouldn’t really because it’s bad for their intestines. It makes them bloated. Bring them some psyllium husks instead! (which, by the way, is working like magic! you should really try it too, jelly poo!) Anyway, this new spot. Right opposite this man’s flat. There was a time when I was quite obsessed with this man. Being parked outside his flat would have been, at the time, my dream as a stalker. No more. How comforting that is: everything passes, eventually. But also, you can overwrite the emotions attached to a particular place. When you’re going through a heartbreak, revisiting streets where you were together or even areas which are only partly connected to that time which is no more can be very painful. But then months or years pass and eventually you can go back to those places without having a fit. Of course you will always remember, but while memories may not fade, the sorrow attached to them becomes a relict which can no longer hurt you.