you can barely hear the drilling from huravee building here on the tenth floor at solite – there’s some disagreement between thakuru and myself as to how the name should bepronounced, thakuru thinks it’s so-light while i think it’s soh-lee-tay.

no matter.

it’s nice up here, there’s a decent breeze, some young women chatter a few tables away and all of them seem to have dyed their hair. must be in fashion, in vogue, a la mode. c’est la vie.

‘i’m not eating,’ says thakuru. ‘are you?’

‘i’m gonna have the solite special ox rice,’ i tell the waiter who nods and disappears.

‘ah! special!’ responds thakuru.

‘yeah, just to get a feel for the place.’

‘you haven’t been here before?’ thakuru seems surprised.

‘no, but it’s nearby. anyway, i had this dream last night.’

‘tell me.’

‘ok, so i was with a friend of mine in this room that was lit in blue. the room was sparsely furnished. in a corner was a dresser on which lay a mirror. there were three white lines on it.’

‘clown powder!’

‘no, my friend said it was heroin. i said: alright, there’s a first time for everything. and i snorted two lines. and almost immediately i felt this sense of deep wellbeing and a mad rush of euphoria – it’s like the joy of acid minus the million thoughts.’

‘so when you say it is your dream you mean it’s something you saw while you were asleep right? not an aspiration?’

‘funny. ok, yeah, so i was thinking, MAN, did i waste time on the wrong drug. and then, my friend came up to me and said: hey, did you do TWO lines? and i said: yeah, why? and he got very concerned and said: oh just, you’re only supposed to do one.’

‘oh dear,’ says thakuru.

‘yeah, and then i felt this flash of pain run from my diaphragm to my left shoulder, and it radiated out to my arm.’

‘fuck!’

‘yeah man, i thought it was a heart attack! and when i woke up the pain was still there!’

‘shit!’

‘yeah, i went to the doctor earlier. luckily it turned out to be just gas. my heart was fine.’

behind us froths the stretch of blue sea between male and hulhule. this magnificent vista, if i may, is largely obscured by the new coast guard building that’s hemming us in. a metaphor, perhaps.

the waiter comes with my rice – long grained, cooked with turmeric and topped off with a fried egg.

i take a few forkfuls.

‘what do you think?’ asks thakuru.

‘horrendous.’

‘really? why?’

‘it wants to be on the same stage and taken as seriously as masbaiy but something’s off. it just doesn’t have the…uh.’

‘acumen?’

‘no, the uh…what’s the word…’

‘flair?’

‘goddammit, no!’

‘je ne sais quoi?’

‘i suppose that’ll have to do.’

‘hmm,’ says thakuru. ‘know what? i had a dream too.’

‘oh, please, continue.’

‘i saw a faceless woman. naked. she had my mother’s tits.’

‘wtf? how can you even tell?’

‘it’s a dream. anyway, what do you think it means?’

‘means we gotta get outta here. BILL PLEASE!’