In the City of Men - Day 15

An often repeated bad Orientalist's tale says that the Saudis divorce the women they despise with a single SMS containing one word repeated thrice, and the women they respect with three subsequent one-word SMSs. Well, the truth is that I won't see myself divorced so soon. Certainly not when I fancy it; neither when he fancies it; perhaps only when God fancies it. And we are both as harsh as Mrs Hull's wettest dream. 
At least we are beyond the tomato soup, and I've recovered my belief in the power of archaic negotiations. 
In the meanwhile, I've been to Rijks Museum to feel European for a respite. The University's housing service finally found a nice loft for me, a sort of neo-Gothic hall with maswerk windows filled with stained glass. Only the bed is small, clearly not designed with romantic adventures in mind. But I might arrange something far more archaic than just a bed. The neighbourhood is excellent, the library is at the distance of a short walk and the botanical garden right across the Witte Singel. It respires the spirit of this Dutch upper class that attracts me so much, respite from being a harsh warrior from the North included in its not inconsiderable bill of 720 euro a month. But it is nice to walk there at night, when all the windows are brightly lit, revealing decent, transparent and discreetly-ostensibly exquisite life of the inhabitants. Everything respires whiteness, ample space and simplicity of long-established affluence. Hopefully I will be able to move in on 17th December, just for a European Christmas among my Arabian books. 
As I look forward to the moment of settling down, I'm still sleeping in a common dormitory in Leidseplein. That usually is just a picturesque experience, except last night, because a girl on the berth right above me made a bad trip; she spent all night yelling her visions in the language of angels. Where was she from? Guess, my dear reader... Why does it always have to be a Pole, that person without the user's manual to the City?... Why do we always need to hurt us so much?...
Today I'm going to London for a conference, my mind bleak and empty. When did I present anything well developed for the last time? Honestly, I do not remember.
But the idea comes to me that now when I am so harsh and assertive, I could come back to horse riding, if I have a chance.