Lockdown

This village suburb of Antwerp is beautiful. For a short visit. Meaning a week, max. D.’s family’s house is nicely secluded, set far back from the street with forest for protection in front. The same forest extends far behind the house. It’s a special setup; apparently the neighborhood doesn’t allow anyone to retreat so far anymore. Gotta love that Stepford spirit. Most of the other houses line up uniformly within easy reach of the bricked streets. There also must have been some edict for them to cut down all trees in the vicinity, too, and they’re all naked.

I’ve always hated ‘burbs of any kind. I can still feel the profound sense of relief I had when I moved away from my parents’ place in the soul-smothering, brain-numbing sticks of Atlanta to go to Boston. No more driving everywhere. No more in-between. Choose either the city or the country and commit to it.

I feel that same sense of stagnation all around me here (made worse by the constant presence of one family member who doesn’t work, go to school, or do much of anything besides watch TV – but that’s another entry). The forested barrier is closing in on me like some kind of leafy prison door. Must leave quickly.