My life here is everything but what it was in N. There is no system that I log on every day, no reports have to be written, no messages sent, no body immunity checked-up and there's no talk about work. The bed made me calmer even though the cleanliness of the sheets could be discussed. I changed my clothes. The ones that I took from home seemed ridiculous when it came to walking along the streets of K. Everybody was looking at me, pointing at me and whispering behind my back and I felt threatened. Such a careful way of protecting your body from various germs and diseases also seems unnecessary so I wash far less often than I used to. I smell but everybody here smells. This is the smell of human body, human sweat, and after a while, it stops being irritating. You get used to the smell quickly. After a while, you no longer can feel yourself, people around you or the intense smell of food and spices.
I wake up early and drink a cup of tea with the man. He is kind and answers my every question with a smile and a wish to tell me more. There are few things I haven't asked him yet. He's the landlord. He owns the house. It is a big one with two floors and six rooms and it's the remains of the old days when K. was prosperous. There are many such houses, usually inhabited by women, who start to be a form of landlords' property. Old men make use of their wealth and young women seem to be under the impression that wealth is something desirable and they can freely give their bodies to have just a tiny amount of it. Those who lead the so-called standard life rent rooms with twenty or thirty other people. They share beds or carpets on the floors. They have usually one set of clothes, which they wear throughout their life. Some of them have two pairs of shoes, but the ones who have such an additional pair usually trade them for a day or two for some other favor, like a prepared meal or washed clothes.
Men and women are ugly. That was my first impression when I came here. There is no grace, slenderness or beauty you can easily find it N. However, after a while here, I cannot say that they aren't strangely attractive. Quite the reverse. Their eyes sparkle with a deep sensual charm that I hadn't found in any of N. woman's eyes. They like touching each other, kissing each others' bodies and they use their hands and tools to achieve sexual satisfaction. I saw a few sexual intercourses. They are short and loud in most cases. Only sometimes, whether it is due to their feelings for each other or the weather, they are long and sensual, and, I must say, desirable. People are not ashamed. It's enough for them to find an empty spot, a lonesome tree or a field to engage in hours of intense love-making. They treat it as something as natural as eating.
Men and women are ugly. That was my first impression when I came here. There is no grace, slenderness or beauty you can easily find it N. However, after a while here, I cannot say that they aren't strangely attractive. Quite the reverse. Their eyes sparkle with a deep sensual charm that I hadn't found in any of N. woman's eyes. They like touching each other, kissing each others' bodies and they use their hands and tools to achieve sexual satisfaction. I saw a few sexual intercourses. They are short and loud in most cases. Only sometimes, whether it is due to their feelings for each other or the weather, they are long and sensual, and, I must say, desirable. People are not ashamed. It's enough for them to find an empty spot, a lonesome tree or a field to engage in hours of intense love-making. They treat it as something as natural as eating.
The food here is the only sanctity. They prepare it for hours and for hours a day they consume it. They have various tools for that purpose but often they eat with their hands. The flavors are breathtaking. Once you start eating, you cannot stop. My metabolism has changed. I have already gained weight and it seems that I will only be gaining more. Little children can cook and older people still have the strength to prepare food, even though they can barely walk and see. People don't seem to be doing more than that. In between sleep, food, sex and some small duties connected with preserving food, they rest. They can sit for hours talking to each other, sharing jokes and experiences. They speak the same language as we do, but it seems that ours evolved through the years and theirs is ancient, melodic and there are some words I cannot understand. They don't like talking about N. There is an intense hatred in their eyes when I mention N. They are extremely proud. That is why I started to dress like them and behave like them. I also own now one set of clothes. I rarely contact my mother. My life now is this house, this old man and these people, with whom I spend more and more time.
They accepted me as they saw me eating their food and sitting with them for hours. I feel like one of them. There were women who came to me and gave me pleasure. There were men who woke me up in the middle of the night and showed me the beauty of the rising sun. I own nothing but this journal and the luxury of the house inhabited by this old man. However, I spend more and more nights in a shared bed in one of the flats with dozen more people. I value their talks and stories. I sleep differently. I want to make love even more and I do this with the company of the girls who are openly interested. They started coming to me, at first shyly and without confidence. They told me I was pretty. They come more often and caress my body with a hundred of kisses. They touch my limbs and make me unconscious from passion.
There is one thing that bothers me every so often. I haven't seen any presence of deity. K. doesn't seem to believe in anything. There is some sort of circle of life that they talk about pointing at the food but I cannot make out where it has its roots.
I'm good.
