compulsive new year post

At 12 am, I was in a dirty cafe' (nafaa) eating day old savouries to the buzz of middle-aged conversations. There was no indication that a new year had dawned, no pause to the flow, no greetings; it was an evening like any other and the men did not find reason to celebrate any more or less than they usually did at that hour.

Outside the cafe' I was greeted by a drunken acquaintance, who looked as though he had had a run in with a paper knife with a pathological hatred of humankind. It so happened that his sometime girlfriend had called it quits that very night, and she was picked up on cue, by a stranger who made off with her without a second glance. And while attempting to drown the mocking roar of engines and his sorrow with a bottle of vodka my friend was found, sobbing and intoxicated by his sister, and it occurred to him right there and then that he had lost all desire to live. He quoted Metallica for me and said it was profound. As he was a fervent Metallica fan and was sore from a thwarted suicide attempt, and still had his blunt implement on his person, I found it wise not to disagree. When he was finally sober enough to find some humour in the situation, we embarked on an aimless tour of the streets, his bloodied clothing occasionanlly being the subject of unwanted curiosity.