The horror. The extreme horror.
I’ve been to one of the cities with an university yesterday, mainly to gather information. (Information. Information. We want information.) You know, you have to decide what studies you’ll do, and where you’ll do them. But after having spent half an hour in the building where I would end up having classes, I decided that that particular city will not be my home. It was such an ugly building, it looked worn out and some of the walls were grey. Never make your walls look like concrete, okay? It didn’t feel comfortable. And the chairs. Oh, the chairs. That were no chairs. That were pieces of wood, straight wood, put behing your back.
But that is another sort of horror. I’ve become smarter now, as we say here, I now know better what to do, where to do it.
The real horror started when we went to the heart of the city and entered some shops.
We shouldn’t have done that.
Why, oh, why are beautiful, simple yet not ordinary clothes so damn impossible to find? You know, when you don’t feel comfortable in the clothes you’re wearing, it ruins your day. You have to wear something that you really want to wear, in which you feel good. But that becomes a problem when your style changes faster than Belgian weather and all shops have the same damn ugly, UGLY clothes. And ugly, UGLY shoes. Or, at least, shoes that don’t fit my profile and image. Because that is very possible.
The world is a hard place. Tell me about it. Not only there are no longer good clothes, but I also forced you to read this post…