i want to be a hurricane

By @RubenVanco

i want to be a hurricane

By @RubenVanco

do you ever daydream about being anonymous in a big city?

Chapter 1

Maybe i should move to a big city and be anonymous. Yes! i want to be a nobody so i’d be able to be everybody. i would do whatever the hell i want. I’d buy one of those sleek black waterproof backpacks and run places. Like when you’re running errands but you’re actually running. I’d fill the space with big childish gestures, making a mockery of boring ways of convention. I would live in a small shared mouldy apartment, well not mouldy like mouldy, but there’d be like stains all over and wallpaper peeling of the walls, crackled paint. And those grosse carpeted floors with red wine stains you make up murder stories about. My roommates would be super real and not too aware of themselves. They wouldn’t be very pretentious and they wouldn’t have social media, well accept for this one girl maybe who’s quite superficial, but her name is Hannah and she’s very clean and she really brightens u the place when she’s around (i imagine hannag would be a dancer and a photographer so that would explain why she’d have social media). There would be art on the walls. Mostly art we (me and my roommates) made ourselves but also some pieces from friends (I imagine we’d be the kind of people who have friends who are artists). And we’d have these small balconies where people would smoke on parties, even in wintertime. And there would be at least one wall painted yellow and a leather couch with a tear in it and all kinds of chairs around the dinner table that don’t go together and yet they do. And there would be a stray cat, who probably belongs to one of our neighbours but we would still call it a stray cat and we’d give her a wild name that would be the result of some stupid inside joke that would confuse people who come over to dinner parties. And we’d barely be able to afford the rent but we’d live like Parisians do, or at least like I imagine they do: have empty fridges, have 2 proper meals a day and live off scraps you get from your job as a dishwasher at a restaurant you only got because one of your friends is a chef there or something. We’d go out to fancy bakeries and cafés and order things like a little lemon tart but with two spoons because we wouldn’t be able to afford two. And we’d be one of those apartments where there’s always a candle burning, or there’s always an empty bottle lying around reminding us of the wild night we had a few days ago and we’d put candles in those bottles and place them on cool objects for side tables like a worn-out djembe or wine crates. We’d be tired al the time, yet doing way too much. We’d have bikes blocking the hallway that we’d barely use, accept for when were too drunk, causing chaos in the neighbourhood. i want to live wild and free in the city. i want to be a hurricane.

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