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Anastasia

This film, that reminds strongly of a Disney-film because of the style of drawing and the style of music, is really anything but a Disney-film. Despite the fact it even has two little helpers, just like Disney usually has.

The story is about Anastasia, who is born and raised in the rich aristocracy of Russia, where, during a party, Rasputin has invited himself, cursing all of the Romanov family. He wants them all to die. The family which Anastasia is part of. This happens shortly after Anastasia was given a small music box by her grandmother.

Because of the curse of Rasputin, the family is forced to flee the scene instantly, as Rasputin wants to kill everyone, setting the house on fire. During the flight, grandmother and Anastasia loose each other. Grandmother is on the train and loses grip on Anastasia’s hand, causing her to fall down.

Years later, it appears that Anja (her name by now) has no recollection of the life she led before her 8th birthday, the moment the party  was. She is, by now, grown up, leaving the orphanage she’s been living in, to start her own life as a cleaning lady. At least, that’s what she’s supposed to do, according to the head mistress. But Anja has a will of her own. The road goes in two opposite directions. Which ones shall she take?

The film was made by Fox film corporation, and this is noticeable. There’s far more elements of it being a drawn musical at times than in Disney films. The drama is heavier, it’s far less suitable for small children with a strong imagination, who might get nightmares from such dark images. Especially Rasputin being depicted as being in a darker world, can be too much for a happy mind. You should watch along, or fast forward. Though it’s very possible that the fact there’s no blood visible, makes it funny for those who aren’t that weak in the stomach, or just care less.
There’s a scene, however, in Paris, where one of the statues (of a horse, with wings) becomes evil by the touch of magic. I wouldn’t call that very suitable for small children either.

Then again, the fact that in Disney films usually a prince or any male type person has to rescue the girl in her bloody expensive dress from any evil beings, is nicely compensated here. The girl does it all by herself, telling the bastard in his face he can go take a hike. Of course, she has help, but she’s the one who stands there with her dress being torn apart, kicking and giving a big mouth. Good stuff.

All in all, I’d say this is a nice film, but I wouldn’t recommend your kid watching it on her/his own that first time. At least hang in there for the music, it’s truly lovely.

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Posted by on June 25, 2017 in Films, Opinion

 

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Muziek/ Music

Teksten van muziek doen me weinig. Nooit heb ik daar echt naar geluisterd. Ik word gegrepen door de melodie. Wat maakt dat ik af en toe de meest debiele liedjes leuk vind. Het stuiterige soort deuntjes van K3, Kinderen voor Kinderen, Zecchino D’Oro, Hamelen, enzovoorts. Die kinderliedjes hebben vaak een hoog ‘oppeppend’ gehalte wat mij betreft. Fijn als ik me een keer down voel of iets. En ja hoor, ik luister ook The Beatles, Joe Cocker, The Byrds, Roxette, Queen enzovoorts.

Daarentegen luister is niet graag naar, wat ik nog het meest vind klinken als cirkelzagen die zogenaamd kunstig van een soort melodie voorzien zijn. Dat die dingen ooit een keer per ongeluk in een echoënde put met een berg aluminiumfolie en gemalen glas zijn gelazerd en dat er toen iemand dacht: ‘goh, dat klinkt bést geinig’, wil nog niet zeggen dat ik vind dat het het etiket ‘muziek’ verdient.
Of van die rappers die eigenlijk niet kunnen zingen en dus maar een klassiek muziekstuk op de achtergrond zetten en daar hun hele levensverhaal op tetteren. Ja, wel keurig op de maat. Dat dan weer wel. Mijn ding is het niet, nooit geweest ook. Als ik een audioboek wil, koop ik dat wel…
Maar dat ben ik.
Het nadeel van nooit luisteren naar teksten, is dat je de liedjes die je maar één keer hoorde, ook nooit meer terug kunt vinden als je op het zalige medium youtube rondhangt. Dus was ik erg blij toen, op twitter, @jonnythumper me inlichtte over The Police. Bam. Meteen een stuk jeugdherinneringen terug. Van onderweg naar het strand zijn, in de auto, met vader die het toch wel erg prettig vond als z’n kroost zich gedroeg daar op de achterbank en dus zijn eigen jeugd in de autoradio duwde.
Toen @timmcnulty, die me fijn wat Ierse folkmusic wist aan te prijzen, die ik voorheen al bij mijn vader, zittend op zijn rommelkist, meezong. Heerlijk. En ik was érg blij toen Yvon Jansen, oud DJ, me wees op de geweldige muziek uit de jaren 60 en 70. Onder andere Shocking Blue. Het nummer Venus en Never Marry A Railroadman bleven meteen hangen. Met het doorlopen van andere ‘sixties hits’ videos op youtube zag ik de veel originelere versies van nummers terug die ik, gezongen door andere bandjes, geadoreerd had. Of die stukken soundtrack van films zongen die ik in een andere versie kende (Nancy Sinatra met ‘Bang Bang’ bijvoorbeeld, meteen kwam Kill Bill terug). Of van verzekeringsreclames. Jonny, Tim & Yvon: ik ben jullie eeuwig dankbaar! Want ja, zoveel doet muziek met me.

Muziek heeft op mij vrijwel hetzelfde effect als drugs op personen hebben. Vermoed ik. Ik heb de chemische substanties nooit gebruikt, dus daadwerkelijk vergelijken kan ik het niet. Ik kan helemaal opgaan in muziek. Met een koptelefoon op en het volume hoog, ogen dicht, gaat m’n fantasie keihard met me op de loop. Ik kan op muziek wegdromen dat ik de muziek zelf maak (op viool of piano bijvoorbeeld, twee van die lekkere tut instrumenten die ik ooit heb leren bespelen) of dat ik me ergens bevind waar ik helemaal in m’n element ben, met iemand dans, keihard paardrij (ja OK, die opgepepte tune van Ivanhoe zal daar ongetwijfeld aan bijgedragen hebben), zwaar populair ben op een feestje en voor de verandering niet zo strontverlegen in een hoek verdwijn. Het soort zaken waarvan ik wel weet dat mensen met drank danwel drugs ongeveer gelijksoortige wanen hebben. Bij mij houdt het wel op als de muziek stopt. Dus zet ik het bij voorkeur op ‘repeat’.
Ik kan het dan weer niet als ik samen met iemand anders luister, trouwens.
Die muziek moet echt met koptelefoon en he-le-maal voor mij zijn. Tenzij die ander het nummer net zo leuk vind als ik.
Samen muziek maken/zingen kan ik dat dan weer wel. In m’n eentje doe ik dat namelijk juist weer níet. Toch altijd bang dat iemand het dan per ongeluk hoort en op de rode buzzer drukt.

Zo af en toe heb ik een melodietje in m’n hoofd zonder te weten waar dat van is. Dan moet ik m’n vriendin Doreen weer bellen, en over de telefoon het deuntje zingen/hummen/fluiten (‘dat is ‘Leaf’ van Wonderwoman! Hoe kom je daar nou weer op?’ ik: ‘hoorde ik net toen ik schoenen kocht…’ zij: ‘what the fuck doe JIJ in een schoenenzaak?!’). Maar ik dwaal af, sorry.
Het klinkt niet héél beroerd als ik zing  (ik zat ooit op de koorschool, mijn kop staat nog op de voorkant van een CD, nota bene; ik zou volleerd zangeres moeten zijn, maarrrr: helaas!) maar toch, het algemeen herkenbaar maken van een melodie lukt niet altijd..
Als ik het eenmaal weet, speel ik zo’n liedje ook meteen 20 keer af. Kan ik niet meer stoppen met het luisteren. Een enorme pepper kan het dan zijn. Of het nou een goed nummer is of niet…

Ik heb vriendinnen en vrienden die niet naar muziek kunnen luisteren als de tekst ze niet aanstaat. Hoewel ik moet toegeven dat ik er vaak zat achter kom dat de liedjes waar ik graag naar luister, totaal geen boodschap hebben, blijf ik erbij dat ik het prettiger vind om naar een lekker melodietje te luisteren, iets wat me grijpt en spreekwoordelijk de dansvloer op slingert, dan naar een enorm verantwoord tekstgeschal waar verder melodisch niet veel aan is. Dan vraag ik me ook af: wat moet ik hiermee? Voor goede teksten lees ik liever een goed boek, blog of krantenartikel. Daar luister ik geen muziek voor.

Lyrics of music have nearly no effect on me. I barely listen to them. Or at all, really. It’s the melody that grabs me. Which makes that I sometimes even like to listen to children’s songs. So sue me. I do like to listen to certain nursery rhymes with a beat. Or Kinderen voor Kinderen, K3, Zecchino d’Oro etcetera. They have the ability to pep me up when I need it. And don’t worry, I also like The Beatles, The Byrds, Queen, Joe Cocker and so on. I am -sort of- grown up. 

As opposed to, what I think mostly resembles chainsaws that have been magically given some sort of tune. I can’t help it if they have thrown such equipment in a depp well with some glass and aluminum foil and someone thought: ‘well, it does sort of sound OK!’ I just don’t think it’s music.
Or rappers that actually can’t sing, and so instead tell their whole life story on the beat (yes, I’ll give ‘m that) of a piece of classical music that they decided to destroy. If I want to listen to a book, I’ll buy an audiobook.
But that’s me.
The unfortunate part of never listening to lyrics, is that you can’t ever find back the songs you enjoyed once or twice, when scrolling on the lovely site of YouTube. So I was very pleased when, on twitter, @jonnythumper brought my attention to The Police. Bam. Welcome back childhood! Being on our way to the beach, seated in the back, whilst my parents pushed their own childhood in the car radio.
Then @timmcnulty who reintroduced me to some Irish Folky music, that I had already known, singing those songs along together with my dad (given that him and me are the sole family members to actually appreciate that kind of music). How lovely! And I was VERY pleased when Yvon Jansen, former DJ, brought my attention to music of the sixties. Amongst them, Shocking Blue. Venus and Never Marry A Railroadman immediately stuck with me. By going through some other ‘greatest hits of the sixties’ videos on YouTube I recognised loads of songs that I had been admiring, sung by other bands. Or songs that have been used by films for the soundtracks, albeit in a slightly different sound. Hearing Nancy Sinatra sing ‘Bang Bang’ immediately brought Kill Bill back to me. And silly insurance companies using songs for their jingles. I can’t thank Jonny, Tim and Yvon enough! Because yes, that’s the effect music has on me.
Music has the same effect on me as drugs to other persons. I think. I’ve never used any. From the descriptions I’ve read of people tripping or their experiences as to what happens, it does seem the same as I have when I put on a song that I like, whilst putting on headphones and using volume 10. It’s an accelerator for any type of fantasy I might have. Dancing with somebody, feeling admired, loved, pretending I’m the one playing the piece, skateboarding like mad over a crowded street, that sort of thing. With me, however, the fantasy stops when the music does. So usually, I push ‘repeat’ on my device.
I can’t do it when someone else is listening with me, by the way.
The headphones are necessary to make it com-plete-ly MINE.
Making music/singing together is a possibility aswell. I can’t do that on my own, weirdly. I do always assume that someone, somewhere, will buzz me off when I do that. 

At times I’m stuck with a melody in my head, unaware what it is. I have to phone my friend Doreen when that happens, sing/hum/whistle the song, (which I’m not too bad at, considering my head is on some CD with church music for crying out loud, but still) and hope she can help me. At times this works brilliantly (‘that’s Leaf, by Wonderwoman, how did you get there??’ me: ‘I was buying shoes when I heard it’ she: ‘what the f*** were you doing shoeshopping??’  but I’m drifting off, I do apologise).
Once I found the song back, I can listen to it endlessly. For that moment. It doesn’t have to be the best song for that, I’ll admit…

I have friends who can’t listen to music if the text has nothing to offer. Even though I have to admit that I’ve been keen on a song that doesn’t exactly bring science to the table or anything, I do rather listen to a nice melody that lures me onto the dancefloor. Or a nice place to think of. Because that’s what music has a function for me. To be nice to listen to. Not especially its message. For that, I’d rather read a book, a blog, a newspaper and so on. While listening to some music I like. 

 

 
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Posted by on October 9, 2016 in Daily life, Opinion

 

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Hjordis (review)

Hjordis is another stunningly lovely show on Netflix. I doubt it’s visible in the USA, though I could be wrong about this.
I wrote about Rita earlier, and Hjordis looks like a spinoff of that. A few of the same actors (Lise Baastrup, Ellen Hillingso) and also within the same school.
But either the series is no longer complete, or this spinoff was solely made to bring up the theme of bullying.
You see, the school Hjordis works at, is having a ‘anti-bullying week’ at school. Helle, the headmistress, asks Hjordis to come up with ideas to do something with this theme. It is decided that Hjordis will gather some of the students in school to perform a play. Given that the possibility exists that they get to play for the royal family -who will be visiting the school- everyone is really excited.
Then it appears that Helle, the headmistress, has gotten cold feet. She decides the students of her own school are not nearly good enough to perform for such important people as the royal family. So Helle phones a schooll for gifted children, who can sing, dance and generall perform really well.
The children that Hjordis had gathered are being put aside by these priviliged kids, who are a bit too aware they are awesome and so on.
Hjordis reports the problems of both groups to Helle, but gets no real answer. Helle wants the children to cooperate and mostly, the priviliged kids to do the performances.

When the royal family finally cancels their plans to come and visit, the plans change. This is where it becomes even more interesting. Don’t forget this serie is Danish, where the acceptance of different individuals is, apparently, far more accepted. There’s the girl who is deaf and gets romantically involved, there’s the boy who really wants to dress up as a princess. This brings more problems than you could imagine. Not just for Hjordis, who has to adjust to the idea in about 5 seconds, but also to other teachers, parents and so on.

Meanwhile, the show is brought light and airy. No heavy debates.

It’s a joy to watch. And an eyeopener for those who are so used to classic soaps 🙂

 
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Posted by on January 22, 2016 in Daily life, Opinion, Uncategorized

 

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Feminism today

I read a lot about this subject these days. There seems to be a lot of fuzz going on about the subject. Celebrities are telling women to empower themselves, to take control, to decide what’s best for us, women.

And yet what some of these celebrities do, doesn’t seem like empowerment for women at all. At least, not to me.

In the olden days (yes, I’m sorry, I can’t help digging up some history here) women trying to make rules, values, things in general, better for women all around, were rarely seen doing anything other than publishing a paper, stating how smart women were aswell. They pointed out how these values weren’t charished all that much in women. Some of these women gained some kind of awareness, but mostly men would just get credit for these women, as they were still reckoned to have done the work that the women had actually accomplished.

In the sixties and seventies of 1900, it was, apparently, considered to take back control by burning your bra as to tell men to fuck right off. Well, there’s one way.

What seems most odd to me now, is that some of the women who have big influence on young women -so that’s young women who are the experts of tomorrow in ANY kind of workfield, which is a right that has been faught for quite fiercely before these bra-burners- use this as an excuse to move in sexy ways on a stage (Miley Cyrus), or pose nude for some fancy magazine (Kim Kardashian) in hopes of getting the message through AND gain respect from all around. I’m sorry to the above mentioned ladies, but not only does your music suck, Miley Cyrus (this is a personal opinion only, so don’t fret), but telling girls to act as you do, has nothing to do with empowering women.
Because Miley Cyrus seems to forget: not everyone is as assertive as she might be. Nor so extravert. Girls who act like her, might not get away with it. They DO get sexually harassed. For looking like her. For wanting to be her. For not having her same way of acting. For not being able to say ‘no’, when a boy/man wants to have his way with a the girl that wants to be sexy and has no idea what it means. So in a way, you’re making them victims before anything has even happened.
Because Miley Cyrus so strongly believes that what she does is the only way to sell those records. My advice: learn to sing. You don’t need to walk the stage naked if you can actually sing. Singing, the creation of music by any instrument, should be left to those with talent. That way it sells.

Back to Kardashian: in what universe do you think that being famous for a sextape, having absolutely no talent whatsoever (everyone can appear in a reality soap, don’t even try that one, and your make-up is so fully applied that I’m sure one cheek alone -pick which ever- could feed an entire starving family for an entire week) gives her any rights to tell other women about objectification and feminism?
This actually made me laugh out loud. A women taking control of the world by just letting her boyfriend-turned-husband pay every magazine on the globe to have her on the cover? Yes, oh, you’ve convinced me now! I’m sure you got that far with your brains. I’m sorry I couldn’t even type that without pissing myself from laughing.

There ARE quite a lot of women out there who actually deserve respect and who will do a great deal more to make the position of women better on a daily base.
Such as Sandi Toksvig, the Danmark born comedian from the UK who recently turned into politics to be able to actually make a better place for women possible from a political angle, just as Hillary Clinton is aiming to do, though not with the same perspective.
My own relatives who have setup a project in Brasil (SHE MOVES) that makes it possible for young women to study so they can have a better life elsewhere (the project reminds of the former Foster Parents Plan, where people could financially adopt a child in a poor country so the child could have a better life). Angelina Jolie, who visits refugees and makes their story heard. Ok, I admit that not all of it is specifically aimed at women, but still; these women make their stay worth while. They actually empower, not just for themselves, but to serve others. The position of women and of other human beings in general. Because to make a change, you’ll have to go out there and make the stories of others heard.

This is what makes feminism important. To make sure women with brains and able to make the world a better place for others, find their stage and can do good.
You don’t just DO that for you. You don’t show naked parts of yourself because you so firmly believe this will make the world a better place for other women around. OK, so you have a lot of fans, but what do they want? To get into your panties.
How is this helping anyone, please?

 
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Posted by on July 31, 2015 in Daily life, Opinion

 

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Quartet

To be fair, the storyline of this film is quite thin: former part of quartet moves in home only to be confronted with her former ‘bandmates’, so to speak, only to refuse to reconcile.

The cast is fantastic. Trevor Peacock -Jim Trott from The Vicar of Dibley-, Maggie Smith from oh so many, amongst them Harry Potter and Downton Abbey, even Michael Gambon (Professor Dumbledore) flies by as a deeply annoyed orchestra master, Pauline Collins (Shirley Valentine) and Andrew Sachs (Manuel from Fawlty Towers). They are accompanied by real former musicians.

The home we’re talking about is one that specialises in former musicians. Which brings me to the excellent point of the film. The music. Nearly everything is sang live by truly magnificent performers. It’s not just a funny film because of the actors who perfectly know how to bring a line, but splendid because of this very added bonus. It’s a lust for the ear to hear and a joy for the eye.
Where Pauline dashes here and there as a lost soul and social glue in any situation, Maggie Smith is unwilling to give into this, as is her former husband.

It’s the kind of home you’d want any elderly to live in when they’re at that age where they can no longer take care of themselves, as it must be such a joy to be inside the reliving of your former peer group.
Despite the storyline being a bit thin, this doesn’t make it any less fun. In my opinion, the film couldn’t have handled another one to be fair, as it’s so richly dressed with Maggie being vile to Pauline and Michael Gambon being vile to…well, anyone that crosses his stick.

A true little jewel for when one doesn’t want to think much, but very much likes the opera to relive in ones livingroom 🙂

 
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Posted by on June 12, 2015 in Films, Opinion

 

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Feest/Party

Mijn zus en toekomstige zwager waren klaar met hun studie en gaven daarom een ‘goed feest’, in een krakerspand van vrienden. Het zou het vaagste feest worden waar ik ooit aan deel zou nemen.
Het was de bedoeling dat we verkleed en geschminkt aan start zouden verschijnen, maar wegens het ontbreken van geschikte attributen daarvoor kwam ik zonder. Wel met Vriendin, waarvan Zus had gezegd ‘neem haar maar mee’, wetende dat ik me zonder haar niet erg op m’n gemak zou voelen.
Aangekomen stuurde Zus me ogenblikkelijk naar boven met de woorden:
‘Ga maar wat leuke kleren uitzoeken, je ziet er veel te gewoon uit, jij’. Toen kreeg Vriendin 3 zoenen, en het bevel:
‘Jij ook, er ligt van alles boven’.
Eenmaal boven zagen we inderdaad een kledingrek vol met snuisterijen. Pruiken, nepsnorren, idiote riemen, cowboylaarzen en een overcomplete schminkhoek. Vriendin had zich binnen no time in allerhande prachtigs geregen, verfde haar gezicht vol. Ik deed moeilijk, maar koos uiteindelijk toch voor een blauw verpleegstersjurkje, waarop ik besloot een donkere krulletjespruik te dragen en m’n gezicht met knalrode lippenstift te bekladderen.
Eenmaal beneden was Zus verrukt over Vriendin’s uitgebreide metamorfose. Mij herkende ze aanvankelijk niet eens. Vriendin lachte me, eenmaal op de dansvloer, uitgebreid uit, want de pruik bleek toch wel erg buiten proporties.
Toen ik terug naar boven ging om ‘m weer op te bergen -het kreng jeukte als een gek- ontdekte ik dat er een matras op de grond lag. Met iemand erop, buiten westen. Ik besloot, uit moeheid, om ernaast te gaan liggen en viel al gauw in slaap.
Even later werd ik half wakker van gestommel op de trap. Zus met een nieuwe gast. Ze schrokken enigszins.
‘Oh jeetje, hier zijn er twee in slaap gevallen’, sprak de vriendin.
‘Dat is mijn zusje’, sprak Zus liefdevol. Ik was te moe om te reageren. Ze verkleedden zich, vertrokken weer. Niet lang daarna had ik het wel weer gehad met liggen, en besloot ik aan de wandel te gaan. De gangen waren ofwel bijna klinisch verlicht met TL-buizen, ofwel helemaal niet, waarbij het oranje straatlicht volop z’n kans schoon zag.
Het was in dergelijk licht dat ik een jongen op een bank vond en ernaast ging zitten. Hij sprak Engels, we raakten aan de babbel. Over niks, anders had ik het me vermoedelijk wel herinnert. Na een poosje was ik het zat en zocht de weg terug naar het feestje.
‘Hee, waar was je nou?’ vroeg Vriendin. Ik zei dat ik echt geen idee had.
‘Ergens op een hoop jassen in slaap gevallen, meer weet ik niet’, bracht ik na een poosje uit. Ze lachte en we dansten. We dansten tot in de vroege morgen. Daar gingen de collegejaren van Zus en Zwager. Ze werden weggespoeld met alcohol en bedanst met The Beatles, The Police, Lenny Kravitz, Prince en we dansten er in onze malle pakjes smakelijk op.

My sister and my about-to-be brother-in-law had finished university and were celebrating a ‘big party’ at some squatters property that friends of them lived in. It was gonna be the most vague party I ever ended up in.
It was intended we would arrive dressed and properly painted at the door, but since I didn’t own anything that even remotely fit that description, I arrived plain. I did bring my best Friend, since Sister had said to me ‘bring her!’ knowing that I wouldn’t do very well on my own.
When we arrived, Sister send me upstairs, ordering me:
‘Go and pick out some nice cloths, you look way too common this way!’. Then Friend got three kisses, and the order:
‘You too, there’s plenty!’
The room was indeed filled with goodies. A clothes rack filled with trinkets. Wigs, fake moustaches, idiotic belts, cowboyboots and a corner filled with make up in every possible way. Friend had dressed herself in something incredibly awesome in no time, and painted her face. I was having a hard time, but chose a blue nursing dress, with a dark, curly wig. Then I decided to use an insane amount of bloodred lipstick. That should do it.
When we came down, Sister was stunned about Friends extensive makeover. She didn’t even recognise me at first. Friend was laughing her ass off, on the dancefloor, since my wig didn’t seem to fit very well in the end.
I went up to put the wig back -it itched like crazy- and noticed there was a matrass on the floor. With someone on it, knocked out. I decided to join. I was tired so I fel asleep.
After a while I woke up enough to hear some people stumbling on the stairs. It turned out to be Sister with a new guest. When they entered the room they gobbled a bit.
‘Oh my, these two seem to have fallen asleep’, the guest spoke.
‘Yeah, and one of them is my little sister’, Sister said lovingly. I was too tired to even open my eyes. They put on some dressing cloths and left again. Not too long after that I was done lying down. I decided to walk around a bit. The halls were all either lighted by fluorescent tubes or not at all. The orange streetlights got their way in.
It was in such an orange light that I found some boy, sitting on a couch in a lonely room. I decided to join him. He spoke English, we started talking. About nothing, otherwise I’m sure I would’ve been able to recall. After a while I gave up and returned to the actual party.
‘Where on earth have you been??’ Friend asked me. I said I didn’t have a clue.
‘I fel asleep on a pile of coats. After that, I don’t know’ I told her. She smiled at me and we laughed and danced. We danced into the early morning. We celebrated the college years of Sister and Brother-in-Law. We sipped it with alcohol and danced with music and our silly outfits. 

 
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Posted by on May 19, 2014 in Daily life, Humour

 

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