Ik haat hem," zegt ze.De volgende m

Ik haat hem," zegt ze.

De volgende middag zijn we weer bij het strand. Overal staan parasols en kleine kinderen spelen in het zand, babies liggen in kinderwagens te slapen. Moeders lezen een tijdschrift.
We lopen naar het postkantoor, want ik wil een kaart aan mijn ouders sturen.
Eerst komen we langs het Seashore Motel een witte raket wijst naar de hemel, witte auto's staan op de parkeerplaats te glimmen, de yucca's verbranden in het plantsoen, dat omzoomd is met witte keien. Langs de boulevard staan honderden wuivende palmbomen, het is alsof ze naar de oceaan zwaaien. De jongens die op het strand met een bal spelen blijven even staan, als we langskomen. Ze maken opmerkingen, lachen en wijzen naar Charlotte. Het is weer hetzelfde liedje.
De mall ziet er van een afstand uit als een pas geland spaceship, de glazen plafonds schitteren in de zon en het metaalwerk lijkt wel vloeibaar. Als we door de schuifdeuren naar binnen gaan overvalt ons de airconditioning, de haartjes op onze armen staan rechtop.
Terwijl ik een ansichtkaart uitzoek zit Charlotte op een bankje te wachten. Er zitten wat moeders naast haar met kinderwagens. Ze bewonderen elkaars voortbrengselen.
Ik kies uit de kaartenmolen een geschikt exemplaar en betaal bij de kassa. Daar koop ik ook een postzegel en krabbel wat aardigheden op de achterkant van de kaart. Misschien zijn mijn ouders allang vergeten, dat ik bij Charlotte op vakantie ben.
Als ik weer opkijk is Charlotte verdwenen.
De moeders zijn nog steeds bezig met hun kroost.
Ik loop de winkel uit en kijk om me heen. Ik begin het koud te krijgen en ga naar buiten. De warmte stort zich als een overvaller op mijn nek. Jongens met nonchalant bungelende zonnebrillen likken van hun ijsje, een stel hysterische meiden staat op een afstandje bij een jongen met een scooter. Hij kamt zijn haren kijkend in zijn achteruitkijkspiegel.

Resultaten (Engels) 1:

I hate him, "she says.The following afternoon we are back at the beach. Everywhere there are umbrellas and small children playing in the sand, babies lie in strollers to sleep. Mothers read a magazine.We walk to the post office, because I want to send a card to my parents.First we pass the Seashore Motel a white rocket points to the sky, white cars are in the parking lot to burn the yuccas in the glow, parking facilities, that is lined with white stones. Along the boulevard are hundreds of swaying palm trees, it is like they are to the ocean wave. The guys who are on the beach playing ball for a moment, if we keep stopping by. They make comments, laugh and point out to Charlotte. It's the same song.The mall looks from a distance like a spaceship landed, only the glass ceilings shine in the Sun and the metal work seems like liquid. As we go through the sliding doors go in overtakes us the air conditioning, the hairs on our arms stand upright.While I was sorting out a postcard is on a bench to wait. There are some mothers next to her with strollers. They admire each other's products.I choose from the map mill a suitable copy and pay at checkout. There I buy a postage stamp and Scribble what peculiarities on the back of the card. Maybe its my parents long since forgotten, that I'm on vacation at Charlotte.If I find myself kneeling again is Charlotte disappeared.The mothers are still working on their offspring.I walk out the store and look around me. I start to get cold and go outside. The heat collapses like a robber on my neck. Guys with sunglasses dangling nonchalantly licking their ice cream, a bunch of hysterical girls stands at a distance at a guy with a scooter. He combs his hair looking in his rear view mirror.

Resultaten (Engels) 2:

I hate him, "she says. The next day we are back at the beach. Everywhere umbrellas and small children playing in the sand, babies are sleeping in strollers. Mom read a magazine. We walk to the post office, because I want send a card to my parents. First we designate a white rocket along the Seashore Motel to heaven, white cars are gleaming in the parking, burn the yuccas in the square, which is lined with white stones. Along the boulevard are hundreds swaying palm trees, it's like they wave to the ocean. The guys who play to stay for a moment with a ball on the beach as we pass by. They make observations, laughing and pointing to Charlotte. It's the same old story. The mall looks from a distance like a newly landed spaceship, shine the glass ceilings in the sun and metal work seems liquid. If we go in through the sliding doors overtakes us the air conditioning, the hairs on our arms stand up. While I am a postcard uitzoek Charlotte is waiting on a bench. There are some mothers beside her with prams. They admire each other's productions. I pick out the card mill a suitable one and pay at the cash register. There I also buy a stamp and scribble some jokes on the back of the card. Maybe my parents are long forgotten, I'm on vacation in Charlotte. If I look up Charlotte's gone. The mothers are still busy with their children. I walk out of the store and look around. I'm starting to get cold and go outside. The heat rushes like a mugger on my neck. Boys with sunglasses dangling nonchalantly licking their ice cream, a bunch of hysterical girls stands at a distance by a boy with a scooter. He combs his hair looking in his rearview mirror.

Resultaten (Engels) 3:

i hate him, "she says.

next afternoon we go to the beach. there are umbrellas and little kids playing in the sand, babies in strollers to sleep. mother read a magazine. "we walk to the post office, because i want to send a card to my parents first." we come along the seashore motel white rocket pointing to the sky,white cars in the parking lot to shine, the yucca's burning in the plantsoen, bordered with white stones. along the boulevard are hundreds of waving palm trees, it is like the ocean wave. the guys on the beach playing ball hang up when we come to visit. they make comments, laughing and pointing at charlotte. the same song. "the mall is a distance from a just spaceship glass ceilings, the glitter in the sun and the metalwork like liquid. if we go in through the doors on the air conditioner, the hair on our arms are straight. "while i find out about a postcard charlotte on a bench to wait. there are some mothers with prams beside her.they admire each other's products. "i choose the suitable kaartenmolen a copy and pay at the cash register. there i will also buy a stamp and signature what practices on the back of the card. maybe my parents long forgotten, i am on holiday in charlotte. "when i look up charlotte is gone." the mothers are still busy with their offspring. "i walk out of the store and look around me. i'm getting cold and go outside. the heat is on my neck as a robber. boys with sunglasses casually dangling licking their ice cream, a couple's hysterical girls at a distance in a boy with a scooter. he combed his hair looking in the rearview mirror.