Disconnected Amsterdam

A Story by WOZZYWOZ

A small story encompassing the mind-numbing street art of Amsterdam. Or so I hear.

She seemed unpredictable. As if she was always within her own head, regardless of how engaged she was with others. She was always wandering the vast sand dunes of her subconscious. Because of this, I’ve always felt an unnatural disconnect from her. I love her for who she is though, and I can accept these traits because that’s just how some artists are, I guess. She loved street art. Some nights, when I nested her head in the crook of my arm, she would tell me all about the streets of Amsterdam.

Apparently, in Amsterdam, the street art is spectacular; I hear they scream and shout as you walk by them. On these nights, while nestled between my arm and chest, she would roll her head over to face me, and she would beg for me to take her there someday.

. “Alex,” She tumbled over to face me.

“Hm”, I answered, eyes closed and chin toward the stars.

“You’re taking me to Amsterdam someday.”

“Sure, I replied, eyes still held shut. My eyes were curtained, yet I knew she was looking at me. Staring at me with her infinite eyes.

“Someday.”