I sat in a round office for the first time. The type of office that makes you feel important. Tiny little water bottles and mugs filled with burning hot coffee in front of your seats. People love to hear themselves talk. I saw people indulging so much in the words they were saying it seemed like a type of masturbation to me.
Clearly impressed by their own status, and knowing well enough that we listen and look at them they articulate with ease words they already said in a different round office in front of different people.
It was a Thursday, early afternoon
I left the round office and went straight to the heart of the city with my shirt still tucked in. My taxi driver talked about James Bond movies for the long 25 minutes drive. I encouraged him with my silence to vent about how much he knew about it. Satisfied with his memory he stopped talking for a few seconds and told me about his dream to become an actor someday and play James Bond. He paused and then told me that the world was not ready for a black James Bond.
I started walking around the city. There was little to see and even less to feel. I removed my headphones to listen to the city’s noise. I quickly put them back on when men started staring and following me. I know well enough that they can’t protect me but it feels like a shield from the suggestive disgusting stares.
Outside I found a different type of performance, a different type of show. People were nonchalantly wandering in the street with a casual air. Although they held less self-importance their demeanor clearly hinted at seeking social validation.
One guy passed by close to me with blaring music on his bike. I always wondered with they don’t put fucking headphones on. Perhaps their words went too often unnoticed and they vengefully forced us to acknowledge their presence with Fireworks by Katy Perry.
I don't think people from Texas ever saw a European woman walking at night peacefully. My peace had to be disturbed. My presence insulted their daily life. My naive and casual walk triggered something in the inhabitants of the city who without a doubt let me know that I was not doing something right. How dare I just walk around in the city.
I laughed when a group of men slowed down, lowered their window and yelled “Nice ass”. I had a long coat. No ass in sight.
I continued my walk and tried to head back to the nearest shops and restaurants. The incident blurred into the background but I kept a bitter feeling. As I was shaking off the last vestiges of that weird run-in, a guy—who could either have been from the street or a mansion—asked me which bar I was going to. Like we're all just out here looking to stuff our faces or drown in drinks.
I left before another less polite jerk showed up. They probably just felt lonely thought, I wondered when was the last time they got a handjob. I was annoyed at how much headspace that uneasy and self-conscious feeling of my body ate up. I probably missed on a few interesting things around me. That made me even more annoyed.
I took an Uber, the guy was named Jesus and he truly was my saviour. I told him the stories and he asked me if I wanted to be dropped off in a nicer district. I then left my faith in the hands of Jesus. Hands on wheels he gave me a last smile and I jumped off once again in the vibrant street.
It felt like Europe. There were coffee, plants and live music shops all around. I felt more comfortable but then I realised am I stuck in those hipsters places.
Later I came back to the round office. We talked about things we thought were important. That latest a few hours. Nothing substantial was said. I had to go to a professional dinner for the first time. The type of thing where you start a random conversation and suddenly talk about your work as if you were here for something else.
I met a man in the elevator. His neck was covered by his chins. I sat next to an old men from San Fransisco and I sipped a cocktail next to the old mayor of Dallas. He had memories all the names of the people in the room. He slowly pointed out each passing person and told me who they were, what they did and in a way whether it was worth talking to them or not. We all engaged in exchanges that were more transactional than social, each looking for ways to leverage the moment for future gain. I felt slightly stained by those discussions.
On my last day there, I encountered a strange character. His name was Rudi, he used to be a researcher and now works in investments. There I sat beside my boss, listening to investment speeches back to back for 5 hours. I shook more hands in 5 hours than in my whole life. At the end of each speech, Rudi turned to us, licking his lips, with more desire in his eyes than the jerks on the streets who looked at me the night before. I saw true lust, his hunger was so vivid and his greedy face anchored in my memory
I aimed, for the first time, to write a simple, declarative, flat story. I got inspired by the writings of Annie Ernaux, a French writer, and Charles Bukowski, an American writer. I hold them both in my heart. The style of writing is called “l'écriture plate” it literally translates to flat writing. It aims to be dry, and real, describing life in its most simple and pure form with imperfections, ferosciously sharp. Thanks for reading!
Our team is GENESIS! Check out my teammate genhayes and her publication Lesson and Stories from the Upanishads and Steve and his publication.
