Time has ballooned this week.
Haven't even had a second to think about the sexually deformed dog my life is mimicking.
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Korean women walk in a ludicrous semi-tiptoe. Fingers angled upwards plus outwards to streamline their dainty tapping - like dolls with plastic cuntlessness. Korean men stride at the same pace - uber-neutral. Matching a million others kilometre for kilometre. Their heads stuck in a perpetual zero-jaunt.
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Me, I walk anyway I can have it. Faster than my lungs would like for waiting trains, poetic saunters for hot Sundays, crimson swaggers towards bed with my wife in the afternoon, dogged forward-leaning when annoyed at work.
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So, what do I do with my professional foreigness? Believe in the hype is what I do - because I have to. Just because I have to.
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This mini-interlude of nonsense was brought to you by RuKsaK who has no time at present to post Living and dying in Pete's - part 13 - it will be with you at the weekend - I promise or you can delete me.
