Just the muadh would be enough to drive anyone of they where I come from crazy. Maybe not as crazy as the guy shouting his prayer out through the rough, poor-quality speakers that barks across the slum. But still crazy as in having chaos and burning fire underneath the white bone skull. What is it that keeps on bringing me here. Is it love, hope or maybe confusion. It is the third time I am here now. Ninth week in total over a period of one year. It is not because of convenience at least. That’s for sure.
All I can think of at night is that the mosquitos here must know Kung Fu. Less can I sleep. The little bastards can silently fly in to any unwatched little piece of my skin. Even under the blanket sometimes. They can charge attack you as if they are jumping through the air space the last foot length within a milli-second, before they bite you instantly like an arrowhead. They can sneak up on you in complete silence. When I turn on the light they are gone. Intelligent enough to sit down and stay still. Sometimes they even hide behind the curtain. They must be aliens or manmade spy robots with super powers. We are already in the future. Or something like that. A friend of mine said that he wanted to punch his fist in their faces. I can understand him. No wonder I can’t sleep when I have to slap myself in the face all the time.
My new room mate seem to be a sleepwalker. He was behaving a bit unusual when he suddenly stood up, walked around in the room and made weird noises in the middle of the night. I hope he doesn’t believe he is a warrior when he is in that state. And I hope it isn’t related to the mark I had on my chin when I woke up this morning. My other flat mate sells steroids on the black market for an extra income. He seems to be alright though. May he be. He better be.
I just enjoy the weather, as It can always become worse. However hard it seems to believe. I’ll keep on waiting. I have a feeling of that something good might happen soon.
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