Dec 17th, Andrè


The problem with him was, generally speaking, his lack of interest in other people’s affairs, which, not rarely, usually left him in a state of complete boredom.
That particular day he was especially undisturbed, so he decided to sit on the porch and wait. For whom? No one. For what? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t give too much thought about it, he just sat there and when someone asked him about his current action he simply answered anything that came to mind, mainly for two reasons: to brush off that person quickly and to avoid thinking too much about a particular of nothingness he didn’t want to share.
So he waited for years. Years and years he sat on that porch and waited for whoever or whatever that would meet his most unknown expectations. That person or thing never actually came; nevertheless he waited. At least he’d found something to do, to kill the boredom.