Dead Past Time

Like 2 months ago I went to Montreal . At the time I just took the bus, Dominatrix wasn’t in the landscape yet. I stayed at my friend’s place for 2 ½ days there. As I wrote before, going to Montreal is never a pleasant experience for me. There are many typical characteristics that for naming an apartment a Montrealer place. The spiral stairs always showing the curves and charming steps when you look at them from the bottom. But for a mover is real nightmare. This was the first time in 3 years I went and stayed in a typical Montrealer apartment. I though it would different this time, I also thought my wounds were healed. Just climbing those stars I was like going back to past, in 2004, climbing and feeling your weight bouncing in every step you reach, feeling you’re going to fall if you’re fat, not feeling safe and ready to fall, feeling the rubber that protects you when you step up in winter time. After finishing the outside stairs you open the cranky door, you put your key in old French fashion knob and just after opening that door which was painted several time and you see paint layers as a tree showing you its year stocked in that wall. As soon that door closes you see the interior stairs, you smell humidity and you feet can feel it too when they climb the wooden steps, the jute carpet that protects them stress the smell, you feel you enter in a box, the top seems endless for finally arrive to the door of the apartment, you feel this place was hiding from you as you were playing hide and seek, just when you sought you reach the real labyrinth of emotions hidden in the past of your heart. My memories came when that typical smell smacked on my nose. I tried not to panic and say to myself past won’t take me emotions back. I was so wrong. Probably took me not with in/out stairs or rubber sensation under my feet but the mini daily life will stand between me and my friend.

More than 3 years and this was the only time I spent near 72 hours with a human being, a woman, a being who reminded me the cultural things about my ex bitch. The first morning I realized I was in somebody’s space, despite I slept on the couch. I woke up lost, I couldn’t sleep but I woke up very early with an urge to grab my coffee…surprise, the coffee machine was a primitive instrument so primitive I got troubles to figure it out how to make coffee, without mentioning I needed to find coffee as well. I made a very TNT version of morning drug with that high quality coffee and the rudiment instrument…I felt electrical for at least 7 hours, no need to eat but still I made breakfast because…I don’t know, morning coffee without breakfast is not very normal for me. I waited for my friend to wake and eat together….she woke up almost at 11 am. near brunch time. I don’t know why I have a reaction of being again in couple, being again in charge of cooking and prepare something together since my ex bitch was totally handicapped for those tasks. I was repeating the same actions of my hurtful past with the hope to be loved. I think I was trying to please her just to discover my friend is not a brunch person. “I like more fruits in the morning”. With a kind of deception I was prepared to do some shopping near her place. I used to live around it, so before I went to check my old room in St-Laurent avenue . I had a couple of happy months there, not many, at the end everything ended horrible; I don’t even want to remember.

After exploring shops I went back my friend’s place with empty hands. The apartment was upside down, I wanted to clean it all and throw away half of it. Papers, newspapers, invoices, money, plants, DVD’s, books, toys cat…name it, I wanted all of them out of my way. Of course, it weren’t my belongings; I just wanted a bit of order around the couch, my microscopic guest space. I missed my cat and I missed even more by mattress.

The night was full of surprises; I never expected to be at a hospital with her waiting for an invisible doctor. She had troubles in her stomach or around it. The fauna there was more interesting than going shopping. It was really anthropological being there. People laying on the benches, sitting half slept on the chairs, people low class or people almost dying, coughing their lungs and spitting his hopes on the plastic caps, waiting for more than 5 hours. There was a woman folding like a worm complaining about pain in her kidney, we felt so sorry for her. The funny thing is there were some French tourists, a girl had a problem in her arm, of course, she didn’t have insurance, so, she had to pay in order to see a doctor. She spent more than 700$ and because of that she went straight ahead to see the doctor, she just waited no more than 20 minutes. It was just disgusting and unfair. After waiting we decided to go home (her home) and rent some movies. That was the top of the top. What I hated and probably at the same time I missed the most of my conjugal life were movies. My friend asked to choose 2. I told her she can also chose but she insisted it was me who had to…just like my ex bitch. I chose one from Korea and a Mexican. Both I heard had nice critics. As a good Montrealer my friend wanted to know more and discover new cinema.

We started with the Korean one, Mother, there was a scene when the woman by casualty, cuts her own finger…before the cut, my friend started to cry and cover her face saying aloud “I don’t want to see that”. I just exploded…I felt my ex was there in the living room making a crisis. After that my friend was complaining about me, my aggressively reaction and trying to blame about other things never occurred or she tried to link it with it. Anyways, the next day came and I was eager to come back which I did. With a horrible headache, vomiting and laying on my mattress with my cat. Still I got antibodies to Montreal .


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