So I sent a little e-letter to The Brother. Not a love letter, but one of interest and lust translated into an invitation for a night out. Four days later, I'm still waiting for the reply and it surprises me that my ego doesn't give a rat's ass. The next time I see him at least I will have something to talk about.

Lust. We have a great word for it in Flemish : goesting. Ik heb goesting in pudding (de kleine van mijn zus), goesting om te leven (mijn ma toen ze ziek was), goesting om te slapen (zowat iedereen één keer per dag). If you run out of goesting you will probably get diagnosed as being depressed.