When I saw her first, she looked like a doll in that window, in her blue swim suit. So still and beautiful, one hand on the waist, other on the glass, looking for something or someone, she stood tall. A hooker, they called her, a hooker in the Rossebuurt, but I don’t think she was more than sixteen.
She haunts me day and night, even though it’s been days since the scene. I wonder about all the possible romantic reasons of her being inside of that pretty draped room. “May be she was waiting for her ‘Richard Gere’, that pretty woman.
Isn’t that what we all want? – Possibility of romance, no matter how grave the life itself might be!
When I was younger, I remember listening to endless romantic/sad songs. Tears came easy and mood was romantic, that’s all I knew about world.
Even while growing I saw numerous romantic movies, from ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ to ‘He’s just not that into you’ I wanted to be one of them, lost in love even though it pained.
Unlike men, we are ready to suffer, for the sake of living the dream, we cling on to hard lives, curses, difficult relationships, abuses and all that, for the sake of being in love.
It’s a need, just like water, air and food…
a need, a man would know none of…
Little bit of romance, a love story to call our own.