amsterdam – day three – part two
“Find a man who thinks your silence is beautiful.”
The old Dutchman at the bar said that to me. I wasn’t talking much and to be truthful it was because I could hardly understand what he was saying and to be more truthful it was because in general I just don’t talk much.
It’s been something I’ve been thinking about these last few days. Whenever I talk I have to clear my throat and start again because each sentence has come after a long period of silence. Paul kept saying today that I don’t say much. And it’s true. It’s hard to meet new people when you don’t know what to say. In real life there have always been people I either click with or don’t. If there is no instant connection I find it hard to try to create it.
I want to be someone people want to know. I’m watching a girl at the hostel bar in a short dress dancing for the guys. It’s an easy way for attention but I just don’t want to be one of those girls. I suppose, you can say, I want someone to love me for my silence. Someone will.
I think sometimes that I am looking at this all wrong. Whether I meet anyone or not. Whether I see all the sites or not. Whether I smoke a joint or not. I will have learned something and grown and fallen in love with a city and done something I have never done before.
Part of me wants to go home and part of me wants to never leave and part of me wants to pick up all my friends and move them here.
He told me that my silence is beautiful. Why he said that I’m not so sure. Why I am taking to heart so much something a strange Dutchman said to me in a cafe is beyond me. And why this man who I could hardly understand could understand me so well is frightening. He gave me a postcard before I left. It has his picture on the back and a painting on the front. He is an artist who maybe I am supposed to know. He told me my silence is beautiful. He told me to find a man who thinks my silence is beautiful. He told me to find a man who loves me for my silence.