A second chance

I saw Brussels for the second time not long after I left my house in Valencia, where I had lived with these two Belgians that reminded me how lucky I had always been. But that is another story.
Second opportunities are not usual when travelling. It was for them that I saw her again.
Now she is for me like those girls you can assure are hot and your friends disapprove. You say: “Wait to see her a couple of times”. Later, everything changes when they discover what makes her beautiful in that secret way. For that feeling I must thank another friend: Wouter Bobb Z is, in my opinion, the best Brussel´s (and life itself) guide.
He was doubtful that day about confessing this party going on in a hidden room somewhere in Brussels´ centre, just a few blocks away from his house.
City lights were on at 5 pm when Bobb Z and me were parading in our hypster clothes (the ones you are aloud to wear on when traveling) by Auguste Ortsstraat and I could see, at the end of it, La Bourse. He gave the sign and looked to both sides: clear. A door opened and I found myself in an abandoned Chinese restaurant. It was dark. Dust was gliding, ejected from the floor by the sliding brooms. It was difficult to breath and hard to see. Four boys whispered in vlaams. Avoiding the pieces of magazine, which covered the tarnished windows, a brave fluorescent light entered from the street. The floating grime, enlightened, turned into fog. However, recalling every common religious fable, a giant Buddha could be seen in the middle of the hall. We had entered the misty mystic room.
I started feeling part of it. The advice was not to publish anything, just SMS. We helped getting things ready to host the party later that night and returned to Wouter´s. When we came back it was everyone´s meeting.
Grey strings full of clothes for exchanging tickled Buddha´s head. Weird sketches were performed upstairs and carrot soup was served to fight the cold. At the back, rap freestyle ruled an army in cool, old, hippie, cheap and big jackets sang hypnotized by the vibe. Each group of friends gathered in circles with their own booze. Brussels was naked for me proving what my mind had made of her during those days.
Weird buildings, rude people, dirtiness and an exotic language disguise a community full of joy, art, culture, good life, which is always open to new stuff and free of prejudice.
Bobb Z and I can still Skype because the 20 policemen that dismantled the event at 3 am couldn’t find a responsible.