voodoo lounge

last night it didn't rain. so instead i cried myself.

having worked all day until midnight, went to the party for some well-earned drink. but it was too much. there's too much fog in my head already, no need for drink to cloud things even more.

i had promised, though, a big party entrance. a new dress to be premiered. contact lenses at the ready. serious secretary image shed.

my roommate went to find me in the bedroom: "what are you doing here, girl? come out to party". and so in order not to rain myself to sleep, i go for the promised grand entrance: there i am, the only girl in her pajamas in the whole party!

the DJ leaves at 1am. uncharacteristically punctual. not to worry. the tech team can not only organize simultaneous translations, multiple screens and fancy displays, but they can also source a couple of speakers, move the crowd to go back to their rooms for all their CDs and get the party back on track in under 10minutes.
the latin quarter showed its strenght, and the sounds of cumbia, salsa, rock argentino and candombe dominated until 5am

a man zooms in on me. a man from zambia. he says he sees i am in need, not want. he says i will find out what i need and i will have it, because my need is great. he says what it is it is and he has learnt that he needs to says what he feels. brutally. to avoid heartache later on. he says he doesn't want to hurt women anymore, because only women can really love.

i go back to bed and cry some more.