There is something bewitching about those corner shops. The bad lighting, the unnecessarily huge amount of chocolate bar and fizzy drinks next to the ATM that is always out of order in between room temperature Lipton Iced Tea bottles and vegetables samosas.

Quirky cornucopias of sugary goods where the hunters and gatherers find that physiological gas. In nature, the morphology and function of a structure are heavily connected. For everything that there is, there is a reason for how it is. Nothing exists just for the looks of it. When ventured into the wilderness of glass and plastic, I do enjoy finding a nice bush to gather from.

Not the ones full of cello tape in weird places. The ones with plastic buckets in which lines of droplets continue to fall despite the weather outside. The ones with frozen bags that act as corpses in a common pit in a rather dirty freezer. Uncertain plastic pieces labelled with random price tags all over the place. The orange squeezers next to the baking scales, next to the mops, next to the Christmas present paper.

This one is not mine by choice, but because I constantly dive into its shiny guts to buy milk and bananas. Convenient.

Store.

Thunder, storm, don’t go out. Stay.
Don’t run. A fight in the dark.
Trying to stay the same.
Relevant.
Victories achieved during the night light mean nothing under the sun.
Then.
When they come again, will you welcome them?
Wait. It feels wet, cold and cosy at the same time. Do I want to stay? Do I have a Choice? All the western optimism feels like bullshit.
Today.
I just want someone to hold me all day.

Wait, wait and wait.

Put the magenta flowers outside again. It rains. The streets are dark, only the artificial traffic lights giving away the shades of reality. My favourite shop opens. Bright.

No cars, just silence.

A clean gate opens, and the humanoid forms start to set up the fruits outside. Red, green, yellow. Fresh and clean primal assets organized in wooden boxes next to my prison.
Movement. The workers scattering around the entrance like furious ants, ready to fight for the hive. A door that opens to the luxury of choice, the illusion of wanting a drink made of aloe vera or some highly processed cheese.

Quick grab and go. Small and quiet queues outside, people gazing to each other while they adjust their masks behind their ears. Everything ready, I leave the streets, the combat zone of the shop. I go in.

The Sun comes in. My mind is clear. Intentions focused. For a moment, life makes sense.

Instant.

Go in and think. Think that know who you are. Be brave and reckless. Standing in front of the reflection of the dirty door feels okay. If I don’t like what I see, its just my worst enemy playing tricks on me. I am ready.

Empty streets, I ride.
I am scared, I ride.
I am happy, I ride.
The road seems clear. The clouds go down. The flames kissing the wild winds, a memory of the past. Drowned now in the sands of time.
Not everything is lost.

I ride.