It´s one of those grey weekdays in my life. I´ve been shopping in the city, and now I´m waiting for the bus to take me back home. The benches are empty as I sit down – alone – and start to pick amongst my nuts a grapes. That´s when the middle-aged man approaches me, sits down so close, so close to me, and stares me right into my face.
- What´s your name? he starts.
He´s well dressed, but he´s having a lined face with yet-black eyes. He gets my first name. Then the monologue comes; about how he got to Sweden, about how hard it is to get a job, about how he would like to have more friends.
- Are you married? he strikes. Immediately I feel the vibration, how the grey turns into darkness.
- Yes, I answer tartly and start to look for my mobile phone with that kind of intensity that makes the rings at my left hand rattle. There is an eternity of silence, while I hit the number on the phone. His eyes are piercing, as if he was trying to expose me as a witch. I can hear the birds chirp, how the couple over there argues, and how different the cars really sound as they pass us quickly. He interrupts my thoughts.
- Okay, we’ll just talk, because you’re married.
Discussion: Searching for causeries among the Worldpress blogs I could´t find anyone. But most authors have a third eye that gives us the ability to look at the world from an entirely different point of view. It turned out that, according to Wikipedia, the art of causerie is mostly unknown to the English-speaking world. Why is that? Is that about culture, or because you have a category when it comes to writing that the rest of the world don´t have? Have you ever written a causerie? Why/why not? Would you try?