One way or another

I’m living in a city of one-way streets and farmacies. Do the myriad of one-way streets drive people to drug-use, looking for remedies against the resulting claustrofobia and singlemindedness? The signs are seemingly randomly scattered, breaking up single streets into several parts of opposed one-way segments. I keep having to get on and off my bike, alternating riding with walking like a contestant in an involuntary duathlon.

I’m living in a home that is my home, only the people are missing. I miss the people. Inquenchable thirst, even playing solitaire doesn’t help. To make matters worse, I live in a multiple one-way street, above a farmacy. Many things that seem random are actually ordered, but even more things that seem ordered are actually random. What did I do to deserve beginning all over, suffering all the insecurities again? Overhearing conversations about me I’m not supposed to overhear, I walked back down and up the stairs hoping they didn’t hear me coming the first time. What the hell am I doing here? The question is never answered, after a while it just gets drowned in routine or sleeping pills.

I’m listening to the radio: it just reported how some British beauty queen has been forced to relinquish her crown because she was going to pose nude for a men’s magazine. Apparently she was not supposed to put the concept on which beauty pageants are based to further use. I wonder how she feels now: probably much like an unsuspecting biker who went into a one-way street, only to discover the direction of the one-way suddenly changed. We’re losing faith in the system. Maybe she started taking pills to stop looking for the sense to it all.