Thursday, 19 January 2012

run over

It was a dark and rainy morning. 
Rain and wind, wind and rain. That's Holland to you.

I crossed the cycle path, almost got to the other side when bang! An idiot.
Well, two idiots, if you count yours truly pedestrian victim.

Anyway, an idiot came cycling, dressed in a black outfit, no lights on the bike. He didn't see me until the last second as he was busy talking to the phone.
I didn't see him, but I felt him hitting my shoulder bag and throwing my balance off.

I miserably fell into the ground, but made sure to put my hands in front to shelter the fall.
I turned around and... damn! I realized I didn't know any swear word in Dutch to insult the idiot: in fact, he didn't stop and cycled on.

I got into the office: Erna, our P.A. extraordinaire, fixed me a tea, while Jacob helped me opening the many packets of the first aid kit to get disinfectant and plasters out.  

The plan of going to the gym after work was quickly called off, after the adrenaline retreated from my blood system and I started feeling more and more pain.
I was there, sitting at my desk, but not really there. Yesterday I had some very bad news and I went to bed with a sense of deep sadness and disbelief.

Life is such a fragile string, but this notion is so scary that we do all our best in order to forget it. 
It takes the news of somebody passing to make you remember how precious life is and how easy is to shatter this fake notion of comfort that allows us to carry on with everyday life. 
And it takes a careless cyclist to make all this ideas vaguely running around your mind to really hit home.

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