the writing of kuypers
2001-04-10 19:25:02 (UTC)

salesman 2


The timbre sounded
"who could stop close in this hour? ", I thought,
but I put my compartment down
and I crossed to the door. A man in a game
of plaid been stopped in the lobby with a portfolio spent in
its hand.
He has a tired smile, the style businesses. It almost looked
like genuine. Like him rambled in and around... Well, really
I do not
know what he said. I does not even know what it wished
"which is he who
sells? ", I thought,
and my the track arrived to be navigated with its
confused words. It looked like everything like absurd. But
it looked
like everything to have sense. I did not have taste of which
I heard.
But I tried to listen. I wished to listen. I had to grasp me
to the
doorframe: I had to maintain to me constant whereas thoughs
of this man
tried to strike to me down. Finally I stopped
"what you you are trying
to sell to me? Which are you trying to do? ",
I reque