Sunday, October 16, 2011
A pigeon is hopping up and down on one leg on a Délifrance coffee table. The other leg is missing, but it doesn't seem to bother her. I'm mesmerized, although pigeons are definitely on my not-a-fan-of list. I wonder how it lost its leg..
They are sitting beside me on a stone bench. Dressed up to the nines - I see very fine stockings under that plaid skirt - they discuss the shop in front of them. Forever 21, it's called and it's brand new - in Belgium, that is. One lady has been there before. She says the store is just amazing, but the clothes are no more than rags. "Exactly what the youth wants to wear..", I hear her say.
The pleasant sound of a violin is coming through from behind me. I hear the hollow sound of coins falling on the floor. They're meant to be dropped into the empty ice cream box, but the person donating was in a hurry I guess. I'm sure the violin player will pick it up asap.
He's kissing his infant. It's probably not older than 3 weeks. He's crazy about her. I can see the sparkle in his eyes. He holds her like she's the most precious girl he's ever seen.. She doesn't open her eyes once. She looks content and she feels safe and loved in his arms. Sweat has curled the shiny black hair in her chubby little neck. She has a nice tan, just like her daddy. Brazilian, I would say.
I see them leave Forever 21. Both ladies are holding on to their yellow plastic bags. I wonder what they have purchased? Maybe they needed rags to polish their antique dining tables? They make me smile without a sound.
He's in a wheelchair. Just like the pigeon, a leg is missing. Well, part of his leg is. She's having an ice cream. With a white plastic spoon, she scoops little dollops of vanilla ice cream from her cone. It spoils her bright lipstick. He wipes her mouth with his thumb. They look very much in love. It looks like they've been married for 50 years. Would he be a diabetic? That's a question I always ask myself when I spot missing limbs.
In a very girly voice, he asks his colleagues where they want to have lunch. He gives them several options, waving his hands from side to side, palms up. I like his scarf. I don't like the squeaking of his voice though. His colleagues don't seem to mind. They follow him around like fluffy yellow chicks.
The smell of hot Belgian sugar waffles tickles my nostrils. I'm sure Lana will ask for one. Maybe Eva will prefer a smoothie? They're taking their time. I gave up a while ago. It's better to let them explore the shops by themselves. They won't go crazy. They know their limits.
The sun warms my face, while I'm enjoying the impressions of a Friday afternoon on the Meir in Antwerp. I was pretty content to sit there and observe the world. Shopping is exhausting. I prefer to spot people..