Its 7-ish pm on a Friday, and Yas and i are sitting in a cafe with our macbooks. The 3 other people inside are sitting at the bar, slumped over it in that post-work hunch people in pubs have. We're sitting by an open window. My attention span is dwindling with the setting sun. I mostly stare at the inanimate objects on the tables outside, while my computer serves as a giant ipod. Friendly Fires' "Paris" is on repeat. Over the blaring reggae. Yas and i decide reggae was created for road trips and beach bars. Anywhere else its just obnoxious. She shows me pics of her next stop after Haifa - Sardinia. It looks bright and sunny and symbiotically populated with happy, healthy-looking locals and tourists. I stare out the window some more and daydream about potential beach holidays in southern Europe.
I snap myself out of it, shuffle around, take out a pencil, and slump myself over the table, like the people at the bar. Scrunching my eyebrows together to mould a focused composure, I begin sketching the picture of a disheveled 20-something guy, once purposelessly saved to my desktop, as though it were overdue homework.