The valley of the squinting windows

pulling-back-the-curtain

Seeing as it’s Christmas and I haven’t shared many stories on here about life in The Hague, I thought I’d let you in on a gross little tale that’s been going on in my life since I moved in May.

Much like Luka, I live on the second floor, and directly across from me, in a near identical block of flats, lives a man who, almost nightly, watches what one might refer to as nudie flicks on his extremely large television.

He doesn’t close his Venetian blinds, he doesn’t appear to indulge in any manual vigorousness, he just sits down and watches terrible people riding for hours. And hours. And more hours. I have made complex and laborious stews and eaten them and taken a a nap and when I’m washing my plate he is still just arsing around watching Sasha and Josh bate the sexy heads off each other in a police station. (He is very into police-themed stuff.)

He’s upped the ante since the nights got darker, so now I can’t so much as make a cup of tea after 7pm without seeing a HD fanny a few yards away.

Sometimes he sits at his desk near his window and browses stuff on his computer while the panoramic intercourse takes place in the background. Ordering a few bits off Amazon while Shirley does reverse cowgirl over his shoulder. He must just like the sound of it. Just sitting by the wintery seaside, in a soundscape of moans and seagulls. My very odd neighbour.

 

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