Rectangle, Est. 2012, Brussels-based
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I do not dare to take off my shoes, I already know my feet stink. She insists, saying it will ruin her carpet. I abide. The smell is yet too present. I stare at my feet, hoping to dull the stench but my host’s nostril is already folding down. Pretexting something I forgot, an errand to run, I slide my shoes back on and go. I did not greet the woman’s husband but out of respect, I escape. I walk quickly away from the shame, to get to my cat and eat the last crepes. I come towards the third block, not too close, not too far from work. I hope I have onion jam left. I could not finish the crepes with just lemon. I greet the ever-hunched neighbour, the guy did not get up to piss. I pretend to laugh, as always. He’s dumb-dumb, but I do not want to ruffle him. I’ve always been told you have to know your neighbours, maybe family is passé. As soon as I get the key in the meowing comes. The asshole cannot do without me. He flies into my arms, licks my earlobes. I put him down while telling him about my day and figure how sad the situation is. I roll a crepe to eat by the window. Out of onion jam. The sun goes down, people are getting back home. I picture copious meals and gentle tease but maybe I’m idealising it all.
Born in 1989 in France. Lives and works in Brussels.
Born in 1984 in France. Lives and works in Brussels.
Born in 1982 in France. Lives and works in Brussels.
Born in 1991 in Switzerland. Lives and works in Brussels.