I like to think of the posts I make as in-promptu, as a thing of the moment, but usually I have a clear idea what I want to say, from beginning to end, even if I dont know the how. This is not that kind of post. As soon as I got to the bus station I started writing this.
Look at the picture. Thats me, my outfit of the day. Anything wrong? Maybe you dont like it? Thats fine, really it is, that not what this post is about. Try hard and give reasons as to why those clothes would be reasons enough so that a piece of garbage follows me in the street to say some nasty things.
It’s 13:48 and I leave uni. I am walking to the bus today courtesy of a proffessor who cannot calculate his time suitably and I leave my classroom with an hour left for the next bus. I cross the bridge that gives access to our uni and stop to pull my thighs up. My pitch black, no see-through thighs, my almost pants thighs. And I continue my way to the station.
I’ve noticed a young guyvqith his bike sitting across where I stopped but thought nothing of it. He was dressed in my city’s football club gear and looks as anyone in this city.
At some point along my way while I am shipping on my juice he comes behind me and says something about my legs and my ass that I am trying to forget as quickly as I can. May I refer to the picture above again please? Well apparently it was temptation enough for a young man to grab his bike and follow me to a close distance and say all the things that should never be said to an unknown person, in the middle of the street, making they feel extremely uncomfortable and as usually happens, having to look away as a means of protection (maybe if i show no interest they will leave). Apparently my outfit was not only worth the persecution but also a turning around in the first corner and passing beside me, this time quietly, again.
I need not say what this is, I need not qualify it. I need this to stop.
Floure
IAdoroZu 