Déjà vu

Accompanied by two queers, I travelled back to Bangkok. It felt like coming home. From the station we walked to the boat, which would take us to Balangphu, the 'State of the Guesthouses'. Hullo, here I am again. Why, you remember me? Cool! I beg you...? Half a year ago. Yes, time flies, doesn't it? Check in, and there you go. Bye bye David and Allen, see you later and enjoy it. No problem, you're welcome. Yes, I'll take care, I always do.

Having breakfast, going to the laundrette, I do it all in an almost mechanical way. On to the post office! I could find my way around here without even using my eyes. Good day, Mister Poste Restante, here I am once again! Alright-y, seven letters and cards. Yes, that's right, I just had my birthday. Thank you very much for your birthday wishes. Yes, that's right, lots of family and friends. I must be a lucky woman.

For some time I have forgotten about the rest of the world. I read, I unpack my bag, I read still more, I unpack some more and I enjoy myself. I almost return to the guesthouse dancing. My next plan is to try and find out how much a plane ticket to Myanmar (Birma) costs. Internet, shoppings; I am as busy as a bumble bee. The day flies by.

In the evening I start to calm down. I keep staring at the three blades of the fan on the ceiling while doing the 'loneliness test'. This test is as follows: I sing four lines from the Dutch song, 'Ciske de Rat' ['Wish I had someone to love / And two soft arms around me / Which would protect me forever / I feel so damned alone'] and look what happens next.

Nothing!!! I have never experienced this before. It is like a vacuum. It's pathetic - I just keep staring at the fan. Every blade seems to represent a time unit: past, present and future. Still more quickly they rotate; gliding into each other, going forwards, pushing their shadows behind them. Slowly they turn into one.

I start to drift. Suddenly I feel myself clinging to a little chord, which is attached to a soapbell. I hold on tight. An eagle flies into the soapbell and it bursts. I keep falling, faster and faster, deeper and deeper. When I open my eyes, I am sitting on the bottom of a dry water well. I look up and see a little light. I climb up, but keep gliding backwards all the time. Very slowly I manage to keep on climbing with an ever heavier rucksack on my back. Once I have reached the top, I find myself standing in the middle of a vast meadow full of daisies. I can see my family and friends in a big glass ball. I run towards the ball, but cannot get any closer. I keep plunging further and further into the swamp. The water reaches my lips and when I want to ask for help, a salty wave gets into my mouth. I swim further, until I can see the shore. While I am climbing ashore, I notice that the beach is covered with photographs. I feel exhausted, so I sit down in the middle of it all and take up a book. I open it to start reading, but all pages turn out to be empty.

I stand up and switch off the fan. The combination of this nightly hour, the open window and the window screen above the door will do if I want more cool air to come in. Slowly, the fan comes to a standstill. Only now I can read what is written on the blades: 'What makes... the world... go round?

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