Sometimes I Forget

A bright sunny day after a streak of rainy grey. The heavy clouds have moved away, over a city that is now complaining about the dark. The wind is playing with the belly dancing ends of the sunshade like needy old men play with the laces of a woman's lingery. Tin tables are set up on the sidewalk, next to the café. There comes the coffee that I ordered and I lean back to appreciate the day. 

Across the street the yellow-grey extension of the university's main building stretches out and occupies almost the whole block. I never had any classes in that wing, but I remember coming here for an exam a few years ago. East-Asian Art History. Temples in Thailand, Buddha statues in Bangladesh, and hidden signs with secret meanings that I've already forgotten. 

A bad memory makes a great secret-keeper. The next song begins and only then I realise that the last one had ended. The Sound Providers are playing their songs, boom bap boom bap. Sometimes, with the right tunes on, I forget that I'm wearing headphones, just like a pair of glasses that quietly rests on my nose, they become a part of my reality. And that's when I forget.