April 14. Just another day.

I decide to return and stay some more days in Buenavista. I can work there well, and La Paz can wait. A taxi takes me back to the village and the kind people of the restaurant Paraba Azul. They have offered me a place to stay. I can write in a house again, get some things finished.

That night, I did not dream about mosquitos. I dreamt about a room full of computers and computer people. The computers were piled up against the walls and they spread an unbelievable heat. The people typed incessably on multiple keypads and stared at large screens. The room was uncomfortably hot, despite of the roaring ventilators. There were even computers in the doorway, and outside the room, with dozens of plastic coated copper cables: green, yellow, and blue. It was as if the computers were sweating. One of the boys shouted that he had solved some stuff, his colleagues looked over his shoulder at the flickering screen and applauded him. Want some hot coffee? one of them said. Prefer a beer now the fast ethernet ip resolving mechanism also funcs on our tetragrid highres computing network. They open an old bulky fridge and take out a sixpack of beers. We’re so good, the boy with the long hair says. Yesss, replied another scratching his neck, this is life! For me, this was hell, for them it was the summum bonum of happiness. I try to explain them how I felt, but can’t move my tongue. They start to eat pizza, thick greasy slices of fastfood-pizza they stuffed into their mouths I gazed at them, sitting behind their machines and feeding themselves like pigs and I couldn’t move I had to stay where I was and watch them typing staring scratching their hostile humanoid tissue while alienating from it more than I dared imagine.

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Published by

Kamiel Choi

Dutch philosopher and poet, sometimes sharing thoughts on the internet.

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