I know that at the time you read these lines you are already caught up in the traffic-jam. The traffic-jam had been elevated at daily life-style status.
It is not cool, it is not trendy; it simply is there: be it spring, summer, fall or winter and be it in my neighborhood or in yours.
Cars stop in long lines, one after another, on two or three lanes and crawl.
I do not want to spill the beans on you, but you are looking at the blonde on the opposite lane, arenât you?! You most certainly never again cross path with her but that does not keep you from showing her a broad smile. She answers back, looking you in the eyes, while talking over her mobile.
The cars in front of you start moving. This is your moment. It looks like the right lane is moving faster than yours. Should you change lanes? Nahh! If you do and then see that the line you were in before moves now faster? You will get frustrated, so better no change.
But where is the blonde? Is she gone? No, she rest almost in the same spot. She opened her window and changes phone numbers with a driver behind you.
After all, this is a traffic-jam.
Youâve got to move fast to get ahead one inch at a time.
What now, with the blonde? Should you have moved faster and ask for her phone number? Get serious. From behind the wheel of her Porsche Cayenne it was good enough that you got a look while she was talking over her cell.
Forget about her!
There will be enough Daewoo-made cars where from young women will give you their phone numbersâ¦
It is traffic-jam in the city, and your whole life is one traffic-jam too.
We love our lives, we have fun, and we listen to music. Somebody elseâs music. Not to your taste, not Bach, though. You feel like shutting up all windows and turn up the volume of your Bach CD to the max. Or you dream of having a CD with the sound of a police siren to play and make you believe that police came to the rescue.
Translated by Anca Paduraru