Lisbon, Portugal. Hanging out with the bättre folk in the whateverlounge that you need some fancy card to get in to (except me, because I'm awesome). This place smells like perfume and fake leather. The mood outside this bubble of a lounge is different: I feel sorry for the students sleeping on the floor in herds, but they seemed so comfortable never the less. I want in. The airconditioning is so out of hand here, I'm freezing.
The cow head with lace around it is freaking me out a little. It's staring at me. Now that I said that, this place really has some strange art, like underwear that's hanging on the wall covered in different colours of glittery paint, and a painting with loads of men in tuxedos doing nothing, going nowhere, and then randomly one of them pinching an ass of a woman. Hmm... I should get out of here and join those students. Six hours of sleep in the warmth of portugalls future achievers. Maybe some day they might be in here lounging, or not.
This really wasn't interesting at all. I'm gonna go do something more thought provoking, like facebook.
About Me
- Tiidii
- Half english teenager from Finland, struggling with pretty much anything from deciding the name for her blog to knowing what to do in the future. My exceptional talent of difficult decision making will, for sure, be an abiding feature of my blog and will inevitably lead to a wide range of this-and-that stories. I will tell you everything, and nothing, for it is a blog.
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