Cantar De Procella

Koita na deis.

Anti na grapsw gia afto pou synevei poly arga to vrady ths Defteras, afto pou mou vgainei na pw einai allo.

Funny how these things work really.

Oslo, shmera to apogevma.

Perpataw stous dromous tou, o A. exei fygei ligo nwritera. Not the best of days, admittingly.

I-pod on as usual,I'm just strolling the streets,a bit lost,I don't know that part of the city. And I'm deep in thought, trying to put things into perspective.

The light turns red for vehicles on the junction I walk by.
There's this guy, on a large motorcycle.A racing one.
He looks at me.He has his helmet on,but I can see him through the eye slot.
I pretend I don't notice.
His hand hits the accelerator,without leaving the break.The engine roars,twice.
I know the invitation.

I slow down,but don't turn around.
He does.
He turns his whole body towards me,still on the bike. He lifts the visor and I can feel his eyes on me, all over me.
He revs the engine again,once,prolonged.

I'm barely moving now, my mind racing.
I know,I just KNOW that all I have to do is turn around and look at him.One look,that's all it takes.One look and a whole series of events could unfold that could change everything in an instant.

Easy.

So damn easy.