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the beautiful game June 22, 2014 sunday - 22:44 four years ago, we watched the world cup together. in places, in bars, in pubs, in friends' houses. i remember phuket, where you tried to place bets using the crappy slow browser on my blackberry at dinner. at the restaurant on the beach near our hotel, with the green-lipped mussels. before your girlfriend fell into a drain trying to follow a cat. four years now, and the world cup is on again. i haven't watched a single match and i doubt i will. and you, of course, will not. you sleep, turning to dust, as the earth spins above you. you don't care who wins or loses. you don't care about anything anymore. i think, you are the lucky one. our days are numbered, and your number was small. so you have gone before us, escaped this lifetime of sighs, free of pain, worry and tears. here there is no comfort, no peace, only tiredness and anger and fear and sadness. diaryland | archive | newest entry | profile
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