So tired, so tired
2015. Total 14238. Excerpt:
"There's not many ways of having fun in this city." The man she was with rolled his eyes back as he took another drag, his mouth moving into a stupid kind of grin. If this is fun I'll take chess, thought Phoebe, then realised with a wince that she'd turned into her own grandmother.
Three women veiled head to toe in black entered the lift a couple of floors after Phoebe. She instantly swung back to feeling like a harlot in her western-style cocktail frock. She craved normality. She craved some ordinary person with the same expectations and value levels as herself to do something normal and average with, like go to a nice bar, or a club. She was starting to appreciate why expats cliqued together in the way the did, and felt miserable for it. She hadn't come to Dubai with some idealistic multicultural nirvana in mind, but neither had she expected this endless clash, this endless alien surreality.
Gonna die of sleep now. Exhausted.