It’s the smell of it…
Bleach and anti tobacco air freshener
Wafting under unplucked nostrils
Encouraging sneezes to dole out lurghee
From the middle aged man in the black cotton suit
To the crazy bag lady from number forty three
Still hollering at the receptionist for losing her forms
It takes all sorts
They wander in
and out of this hive of necessity
Swaddled in winter clothes to stave off the cold
Even though its twenty degrees outside
Yet little good it does them
When seated in the cramped sweat box of a room
Accidentally being coughed on by pensioners
And touched by sticky fingers
stretched out from ridiculously large pushchairs
Tiny lungs piercing ear drums
A generic wince shared by all.
Ta or tata – Thank you or goodbye – Thank you and goodbye not such a positive statement now, or is it?
If we are saying thank you then there must have been something positive right?, there must have at least been something to be thankful for. But if we are grateful why indeed are we saying goodbye.
We go through our lives meeting people and places, putting down roots and getting comfortable yet we rarely want to remove them afterwards, is this because we feel that we are trees and we will die when uprooted? Even the most beautiful plant needs a bit of pruning to keep it fresh and alive.
Upon being born we are thrown into a strange unnatural world, yet we survive. We embrace the new environment, breathe the new air, learn to adapt to the new less fluid atmosphere. Our bodies are amazing machines which work in such a way that they are almost effortless in their pursuit to keep up alive: so much so that we often take them far too much for granted.
In our lives we accept the bumps and the scrapes, expect to be able to rebound from the small ailments and get better, yet what happens when this never happens: what if our bodies stopped healing to an extent, would we take more care?
Spare a thought for those accident prone among us for a moment won’t you. For instance, this morning I am sporting a purple bruise on my upper calf that mysteriously appeared, from an unknown source. When washing my hair this morning I discovered the memory of hitting my head after the recoil of pain from under fingertips. I also remember the scorn for the word of ‘Did that hurt?’ from an onlooker, as is somehow being hit around the skull with a metal bar wouldn’t be painful.
Welkom op de blog van Discobar Bizar. Druk gerust wat op de andere knoppen ook, of lees het aangrijpende verhaal van Harry nu je hier bent. Welcome to the Discobar Bizar blog, feel free to push some of the other buttons, or to read the gripping story of Harry whilst you are here!
"The work will teach you how to do it." - "Le travail va vous apprendre à le faire." 09-23-18 ..... I am temporarily on hiatus, attending to matters of health and well being. I will return as soon as possible.