A generic female figure, representing my mother and other women in my life, took me and a friend of hers on a trip. An adventure, really. We stopped over in Belgium. Where I used my phone to take some pictures. Some of the landscape and some of some tall building I was standing right under. It was a modern building. And I aimed my camera straight up to catch a ray of sunlight that was reflecting beautifully on the stained glass windows of the building that had mostly the colour of bricks but was smooth as concrete but also looked soft.
As the sun was setting, a couple stopped and asked me to have a look at the picture on my screen. They agreed it looked amazing and sharp. They also gave me tips on how to take better pictures. Next moment my mom, the friend and me were walking through some Asian country. At a local market, we noticed a return of punk. At least I did, for my companions were to busy with their conversation, smiling, and apparently reminiscing on the past.
A small group of young punksters were involved in a heated discussion at a small clearing on the market. Before they walked on I noticed one of them was wearing a kind of backpack, or maybe the shape was just part of his clearly homemade black, leather jacket. Which looked more like rubber to me. The figure/backpack was in the shape of a bat with the wings sticking out just below the man's shoulders. Two female punkers - not belonging to the first group - entered a clothing store on what looked like high heels. But looking more closely it was more like they were walking on 30cm high stilts. With the toes in the high 'boots' (black, with gold tribals and some other painted decorations), aiming straight down. So, it looked like they had no feet.
We walked passed a small harbour that harboured a few fishing boats. I assumed most were out catching fish. Looking to my right and down a little, I noticed some young boys playing with fireworks. One of them threw a piece at us and it exploded in the air with a not so loud bang nearby us. My companions did not seem to notice and I smiled at the boy who threw it. He grinned. My company went into a shop and asked me to wait outside.
I presumed they needed to use the toilet. I planned using the time to look up - anticipating sharing the night with them - the Indonesian phrase "Good night, ladies". I already knew how to say "good night", so all I had to look up was the word "ladies". But before I could do so they had already returned and we continued on our journey.
Next, we were hiking through a jungle. And my mother's friend asked if we would make it in time to the campsite. My mother replied: "Yes, the mud will come. We will get wet and dirty." I pictured us covered in mud and shivering in our shared tent.
Next thing I knew I was on an operating table in a cleanroom. And subjected to some tests. My mother and her friend had already gone through the process and now it was my turn. Before I could take the final stage of the journey they had to be sure if I was able to withstand low gravity and other harsh conditions. Apparently to live on a base on the moon.
