2.3 Damascus Syria (1st Night) Part 3
The brothel had the feel of a 1950's old oriental home, complete with the big clay pottery water preserver. The beautifully colored tiles in the main hall as well as the wooden window shades represented a very old Levant architectural preference. Nonetheless, the house as well as the furniture had its fair share of abuse. The paint was peeling off the mouldy walls. Several wires hanged from wall to wall singling that the house was not designed to accommodate electricity or phone wiring. An ugly iron kerosene room heater stood in the middle of the main hall. For a chimney, the heater had a long blackened tin pipe that connected it to the ceiling. Three girls were watching the old Syrian Made Sinclair TV situated just behind the ugly old heater.
By now, sweat felt very cold as it dripped on the back of my neck, my heart felt like ripping my ribs apart while my knees felt very weak. Excitement, sense of adventure and fear mixed in my mind in such a way describable only by the smile on my face and the sickness of my stomach.
To my disappointment, the girls looked nothing like Playboy models. Yet, there was something in the way they acted that made me feel very attracted to each of them. For the first time in my life, a girl seemed accessible to me, to my desires, to my fantasies and dreams.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Syria 1982 or 1882 ? (4)
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