We, as social people tend to create peers, most of the time sticking with it while socializing outside our comfort zones. Be it a bar, park, social event. Usually, we don’t see the loner wolves hanging over the corners, seeking any kind of connection. Moreover, we tend to stigmatize certain groups of individuals. While writing prose, most of the time it happens in a social environment where I tend to become an active observer and investigate unspoken lives of socially alienated personas. Raising questions on who they could be, where are they coming from, what is their purpose. Afterward, when a story is finished, I give it to them, as a sign of accepting their way of being. 

This specific story was captured during one of the nights where I attempted to make a connection with a man, a regular customer of a bar in Groningen. The story ended up us becoming acquaintances, where Jeen thanked me for showing that his presence can be noticeable. 

A month later, l read the poem at the poetry reading event which was part of an initiation of Fluxus street events in Kaunas, Lithuania.  Subsequently, I met yet another persona, a wallflower poet with a disability who kindly showed gratitude towards the action I did while sharing a story of a brief encounter with Jeen.

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<...>I’m now in a bar, thinking - be a good citizen thus sleep early, or perhaps be a disobedient child- stay awake all night. Parents are gone a long time ago, a child is not relevant anymore.

They say this question is a sign of youth, where nights become a primal mission to be completed. They also lie a lot.

I see a man, a friend said he’s a madman, once bought a round of drinks for the homeless, 

such a generous act, I thought, how mad or perhaps rich he should be. 

He sees me writing, I pretend not to see his gaze towards me, 

I pretend I’m blind and yet I write. 

I guess the decision has been made- to introduce myself to him. Although I’m just a girl with purple hair and bruised nose slowly sipping a second glass of whiskey.

I pretend I’m strong, yet shaking from inside out, like a bird in loss of its home.

Our gaze meets for a second, squeeze a smile, I say to myself. Pretend to be easy-going, liar liar, panties on fire.

Act as the most important poetess nobody has heard about.

A bartender, a friend of mine, brings a shot of dutch goodness, I say I hate him when I swallow that overfilled glass of dark liquor. 

I guess the night begins.

Perhaps adventure over the corner, perhaps falling over one’s shoulder.

He puts his legs up, the pint is gone, took around 10 minutes to shovel it all.

I keep waiting for another gaze. In the meantime, light up a cigarette. 

They say it helps to waste some time, whilst you can never realize what is the ratio of fast smoking. 

God damn those cigarettes. He disappeared and I, over-focused on the questions of time, did not capture his disappearance.

Perhaps, it is a sign to go home, I feel there is something else yet to come.

I adore the concept of unexpectantly, especially during the nights. When shadows take half of your vision, suddenly you become a queen that no one can see.

Thank God, or perhaps alcohol addiction, he is back.

I am a detective and he is not aware of it at all.

At this moment I already won, knowing more than he does about the girl who writes about him. <...>

performance, 2020,  part of event made for 'Kaunas 2022 contemporary capital', Kaunas, Lithuania