franceslievens | Plaisir d'hiver

There is something ghostly about crossing Brussels' Christmas market at noon. Smells of chips and fritters fill your nose. On your right the ferris wheel plays some muzak version of Dido's Thank You, but there's no-one around to make a ride in this ghastly weather. The woman in the booth stares in space, waiting for the first customer to brave the slippery metal walkway to be able to go round and round and round. She probably hoped to trap some people on lunch break. Alas, everyone chose to stay inside. Only fools like me, on their way from one school to the next, slouch through the rain, trying to avoid puddles and wet socks. We don't have time for foolish things or fritters. When the music dies out, a block away, I picture theme parks in the rain and wet slides.