Smells Like ... Horses

Smells Like ... Horses
LONDON: Ten o'clock in the evening. It is cold. I'm sitting outside the coffee shop, which I normally go to when in never ever land, drinking a sweetish Porto vintage. The company is also cold. No wonder that my relationship with all who live in this land is comparable to that of an undead. With few exception, it's all so without life! boring!

- ...put thorns in the path we want or do not want to walk...
- ...there are times when a person is not well, is being carried away by the hype, and is not seeing...
- So this is how things are, or we accept reality as it is, and life becomes difficult. It doesn't allows us to be completely happy. Or was someone in the other life that made something, and now I'm suffering for it...

These spiritualist conversations are so lifeless! For instance, how do you know that you are in Portugal? When for five dreadful days Lisbon was the stage for the only unexciting, uninspiring, unstimulating national contemporary art fair. OK!, it is always a success to the fair institutional governance body, but no one bothers to fucking show up. Including art dealers (CG, GB, PC, QA, VC, ...), collectors (...), and, worse, not event the organisers?! they are hidden in the VIP lounge - Oh! my apologies, this is not true! The VIP lounge doesn't exist as well as it doesn't exist any hype, or excitement. The Port is the only tasty thing that I can taste during the evening. Everything else is so insipid.
Anyhow, during some months my entertainment was to get out from one house and get in to another. What I've like to call SDP - Serviço ao Domicílio Personalizado (PHS - Personalised Home Service, in English). Sometime I got out with my back scratched! But that is life, and it doesn't become difficult. Just gets better, and better! My mind is in one place, and my heart in the same.
The interesting thing is that with all the migration there wasn't a woman who had been born on never ever land. All came from other lands. Because I'm exceptional good in everything I do they all came with the same sentence, "You were the first person with whom I had sex that I was able to reach orgasm." Maybe they had really bad companions, without the minimum idea in how to take the best out of any situation; or they are looking for and are use to have men smelling like horses; or, maybe, it is just me! To let you understand better my last thought, the other day, the excitement from someone was in that a mutual friend was going out with a woman with less than thirty years old! Hummm! I was going out with one until last month - well at least in the way her thoughts were built.
Definitely not the same wavelength...