Maud Vanhauwert - OR ALRIGHT YES

Yes! and then we will kiss, we will kiss each other deeply and passionately, and you will rip the clothes from my body, lift me up and turn me round, high in the air, as if we’re a wind turbine and the electricity we generate, enough to drive a whole city
or, alright, yes, we will just kiss calmly, on a bench, in the park, and there’ll be a
couple of ducks and we’ll give them bread
Yes! Bread. For the ducks. And the poor too. Every evening, we’ll scrape the leftovers together. From dinner. And you know what, we’ll just make an extra lasagne, with lots of layers, and we’ll cover everything with cling film, yes, because by then we’ll have a well-equipped home, that stays warm and moist, and we’ll take it to the poor and we won’t ask anything for it
or, alright, yes, maybe just a euro, after all what’s a euro in this day and age,
especially if we spend the profits wisely, like by investing in books for
underprivileged children, we could even set up a library.
Yes! A library! With lots of interesting books! Yes, books. Lots and lots of books, including photography books with pictures of places where we can go for our holidays sometime. To Petra, for instance. Magnificent Petra where at dawn you can sway your way by camel to the city hollowed out of the rocks, yes, and if I start feeling sick and begin frothing at the mouth, you will say, it doesn’t matter, my darling. A bit of froth on your lips, it’s all part of you. And you will speculate about parting my lips, here and there, where a bit of effervescence is always welcome, and it’s a feeble joke, but it’s still early, and no-one can hear us
or, alright, yes, just the camel, and the hot silent sand... And the sight of that ancient city will                melt our hearts. And we will resolve together to one day, let us one day hollow something soft out of something hard, a city for us together. And until then we can just rent a flat. With a terrace
Yes! A big terrace, where we can invite all our friends for barbecues in summer, and winter, yes, a winter barbecue, and if we don’t have many friends, then we’ll still have a terrace, smaller, if necessary a tiny one that only fits two chairs
or, alright, yes, if we’re really strapped for cash, we’ll just have a small balcony for
our rubbish bags, that’s an option too, and then we’ll go to a park with public
barbecues, and if all the grills are in use, then we’ll sit down on a bench with just
the two of us. And if there are ducks, we’ll make the stale bread soft again with our
spit. And you’ll say, my frothy-lipped camel. And we’ll hollow a maquette of an
ancient city out of the bread.