So day three of my holibobs and back at my favourite place for a cup of tea, Marche. Probably ‘cause I’m enjoying the practice at asking for tea.
Last night was filled with some strange and pretty dark dreams. Mostly vague and sexual (putting that down to the Helmut Newton exhibition) The other was about a wee guy who volunteers at my work. In my dream he appeared at the door with a horrific look on his face and collapsed into my arms vomiting a strange white liquid in an Aliens style. I awoke after that one and lay in the dark of my scabby hotel room letting the strange feeling of foreboding and fear that comes after a nightmare soak into me.
Another thing about last night was that I got a couple of pretty choice insect bites both of which are on the left hand side of my back. Awesome, more stuff for me to complain about in this diary (I’m such a moan).
Today I’m off to the New National Gallery where I’m led to believe I’ll see some paintings by Magritte. After that I’m going to try and find a gallery that Kendra mentioned in her Email. It’s on a street called ‘Orientalburger’. Well, that’s what my brain keeps telling me it’s called.
Man, they dig the wasp here (if you know what I mean).
I have it in my head that this trip will get me closer to my dad somehow.
I’ll write more about that when I get back through.
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