I started growing the idea of going away, far away. Leaving my home, that safe harbor that already was feeling, too cold, too small, too uncomfortable. I tried to ignore this feeling and convince myself that I was actually too old to make such a foolish step. I mean who does quit his manager job in a company in which he has been for ten years, where he is been respected and well paid?
„All I need is just a good girl by my side, a girl that makes me happy.“ But by saying this I actually realized that I had met a few in the last months and another gorgeous one was about to arrive in 20 mins. She was not one of the good kind, but anyway. “Maybe I should make my home more comfortable”, so I could enjoy more staying here? I had a gaze through the room, I actually liked the way it was furnished, I like the small objects on the shelfs close to my minibar and especially the wooden masks on the walls.
One of them represented a big black indigenous face, decorated with colorful dots, the other
was small with huge eyes, scary teeth and its tongue wide out. They were so different but had one thing in common, although I loved them I had no clue where they were from.
I had bought the little red one, on a big flee market in Limburg years ago, The guy said something about Indonesia, but I did not even knew where it was supposed to be. The black one, was sold to me by an african vendor in Sicily. That’s why I thought it’d be an african mask, but to be fair in this moment I had recognized some colorful pattern, you usually see in aboriginal artworks. I was far from beeing right with it maybe, I guess I just wanted it to look Australian now, because this was all I was thinking about.
I had also an indian bronze statue, which represented a guy with a flute standing next to a girl and a cow. One day in the early morning, as we were going to work together in his car-workshop, we found this statue in front of the house. It was stained with white paint and probably left behind because of this, by the neighbours, who have moved out the night before.
We took it with us and restored it, like we did with the old cars in our workshop. A nice memory of the time with my dad, but apart from that, I did not know much about it. I guessed that it might be Indian, because of the clothes the characters were wearing, but I still had no idea who or what it represented.
But all in all, I had many beautiful things, in this actually beautiful apartment. Why the hell did I feel such an urge to leave it? I reflected about it. It felt useless to accumulate these beautiful things, from foreign countries, having no clue about these cultures. Australia, India, Indonesia, I guess I have to visit these countries, before I die as an old and bored fart in a hospital. And as, Rob Moire, a Canadian backpacker/singer, says in one of his songs. “I don‘t wanna die in an hospital.” No I don‘t wanna die in an fucking hospital!
In this moment I decided that it’s time to go!