cafe, sprawled over two chairs, Lord Of The Flies in my lap. Coral Mango shirt tucked into navy skirt. Makeupless. Flats teased off my toes for foot freedom. Grande mint tea & soymilk awaiting my lips. Stubborn weather turned nice for my pre-tea hot chocolate discussion with nice American boy in my hostel. Gay possibilities. He's an Aries, but of course. He is studying Turkish and Arabic culture and language.
Someone to exchange cultural observations with. For example, the pseudo-macho boys who who perfect their aesthetics with gelled hair and acid washed jeans. The old patriarchal men who sip tea and play backgammon in neighborhood cafes. The men who sweep floors and brew coffee, and the women who aren't allowed to do much, publicly. The traditional old ladies that lower their wicker baskets to the street, allowing the shopkeeper men to fill with groceries, because in the olden days, wives weren't allowed to walk to the shop alone.
The men aren't taking on a feminine identity, the women just don't possess their own space. (Taking/giving, possession.)
It's nice to share these thoughts with someone wıth the ability to bequeath me with knowledge; who had taken classes on the culture.
It's nice to share these thoughts with someone wıth the ability to bequeath me with knowledge; who had taken classes on the culture.
Oh oh how I want to study in college already. To learn things!
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