Short story: Hostel

Blonde hair, brown skin, green eyes, blue eyes, long limbs, dreadlocks, justifications, recriminations, a dozen languages, a dozen cigarettes, first world guilt, humble actions, superior thoughts.

Just passing through.

Brown hair, red hair, black hair, pale skin, facial piercings, tattoos, ringed fingers, grey beards, cheap third world liquor, muggy heat haze.

Just passing through.

Torrential downpours, luscious scenery, poverty, gruel, starving dogs, digital cameras, careless coins.

Just passing through.

Talk it all through, in the hostel, round a dirty cheap wooden table with a heavy glass ashtray presiding, filled with settled matches, cigarette butts, bottletops, candy wrappers, a stray anchovy, first world guilt, promises of commitment, change, assistance, self congratulation.

Just passing through.

This is the result of a fifteen minute writing exercise. The only constrictions were the time limit and five randomly selected words from the dictionary. Today the words were: justifications, matches, settled, anchovy, and hostel.

Image courtesy of goldberg.

Stream of consciousness

Nicely atmospheric!

Perhaps stream of consciousness writing sometimes tells us more and has more meaning than artificial constructions of plot and character.


I was trying to create a feeling of impermanence and hostel-ishness, if you will... I'm seeing a lot of that right now. I'm glad that came through.