stupid shit Venloer road. Damn traffic, honking damn, damn cell phones, damn damn junk music from junk shops, Brunstmusik from Brunstautos.
I push the little Hugo in the car by the total sensory overload as far as Fielmann, where I will co-decide about Marie's glasses.
I'm still not as fast as the girls. I'm as slow as the thick Turkish women with their retinue of sisters, cousins, children in buggies, nieces and nephews.
I hope at Fielmann is quiet, but again the devil is going on. I can not stay here. I need to bring the Hugo in safety and myself also. The girls have alone decide which pair of glasses.
I flee back home. On the inside of the Hugo channel I promise that we will never go back to the door and he is allowed to sleep for the rest of his life in my bed.
I must be careful with the little Hugo. I can not for their openness to the world so strain.
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