luka

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Soon we will leave it. Yyaldrin, Chava, Firefinga, Entertainment from Copenhagen, all will become strangers to us. In truth we were never European in any case. It always felt foreign, exotic, seductive, sleepy, gentle, preserved in aspic.

It's everything we can't have. A dusty paradise we have been locked out of. A magical land where they do things such as 'make love', where they attend lectures and discussion groups, where they riot and strike and protest, where they scrawl left wing graffiti on the wall, where they drink without drunkeness and treat good food as a simple, natural birthright. Even football is given a patina of sophistication there.
 

luka

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They have acces to something called pleasure which will always be forbidden to us. Instead we 'have a laugh'. The Europeans do not 'have a laugh.' They make love to one another, they make love to their food. They drink their drinks very very slowly. As if to say, making love is not something one does in a hurry.
They never work. They linger over everything,
 

luka

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They are comfortable with irony, these mythical Europeans of our imaginations, but they are never glib. They like the taste of olives, of grappa, aperol, ouzo, Pernod, they can determine the quality of a courgette by touch, judiciously fondling their fruit and vegetables before purchase.
 

luka

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Fun for them is never something excessive, never wild, completely without the taint of hysteria. They stay well within the boundaries of the self, comfortable there, in the enclosure of their own skins. they do not want to escape themselves, why would they? They have access to pleasure. Life is good. The oranges taste so sweet.
 
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yyaldrin

in je ogen waait de wind
one thing i noticed when i was in london is that they have these unspoken rules on how to move trough the city as a pedestrian. the same way you have when driving a car on the road. it is as if even on the sidewalk you have lanes. i got into the wrong one once, into a crowd of people moving into one direction and i was going the opposite and it was frightening. never seen that in europe.
 

luka

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They smoke cigarettes without the threat of cancer, it merely makes their voices huskier. They sit indoors at cafe tables and smoke ruminatively, profoundly, in a way which makes smoking seem the most delectable pleasure of all.
 

luka

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Probably pleasure is a matter of speed. to roll something around in the mouth. To extract every nuance. Making love is not something one does in a hurry, they say with the arching of an eyebrow, then they lift a cherry to their lips and take a bite.
 

luka

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In Europe the child does not resent his parents, nor do parents resent their children. This gives their relationships a closeness that to us feels incestuous, forbidden. They enjoy one another's company in bistros, in tavernas and trattorias
 

IdleRich

IdleRich
one thing i noticed when i was in london is that they have these unspoken rules on how to move trough the city as a pedestrian. the same way you have when driving a car on the road. it is as if even on the sidewalk you have lanes. i got into the wrong one once, into a crowd of people moving into one direction and i was going the opposite and it was frightening. never seen that in europe.
I don't know what a sidewalk is but otherwise this is all true. My girlfriend gets absolutely infuriated by this not happening in Portugal - especially as everyone moves really slowly while standing in the "wrong" lane.
 

luka

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A 14 year old smokes a cigarette while riding a moped up and down narrow cobbled lanes. His mothers thighs press against his hips, her crotch against his back, arms wrapped around his waist. This is natural, joyous, good. This is Europe. Soon they will buy fish, right of the quay.
 

luka

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The young do not go out en masse, in nervous flocks or oafish herds. They appear in small intimate knots, greet other people, mingle, smile, a kiss on each cheek, expertly negotiated, no flush of panic, no fumbling, no hesitation. Midnight is still early, even the old people are still out.
 

luka

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They do not follow faddish trends, have no interest in fashion. They cram song birds into cages, kick dogs, have never heard of vegetarianism.
 

luka

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Men and women shout furiously at one another, but this is not aggression, not spite, impotent rage, not the struggle for power. This is something called passion. It is a prelude to making love.
 

yyaldrin

in je ogen waait de wind
A 14 year old smokes a cigarette while riding a moped up and down narrow cobbled lanes. His mothers thighs press against his hips, her crotch against his back, arms wrapped around his waist. This is natural, joyous, good. This is Europe. Soon they will buy fish, right of the quay.
i was in napoli two years ago and it felt exactly like that. go there next time!

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:love:
 
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