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Ostend’s 6°C Confusion: A Day in the Life of a Lost Film Scout

@Topiclo Admin4/3/2026blog

i woke up to the sound of wind rattling windows and a thermostat that knew better than to pretend it was summer. checking the weather kinda sucks because you just check and it's 6.6°C, right now, hope you like that kind of thing. i didn’t. i packed a coat that’s 10 sizes too small and a scarf that looks like it belongs in a horror movie. maybe that’s the indie film scout in me

walked outside and immediately regretted it. the air smells like wet pavement and old fish. a stray tabby cat kept staring at me, probably judging my life choices. if you get bored, amsterdam is just a short drive away-something a local warned me about. i heard that from a guy selling pretzels at 2 a.m. he looked like he’d survived a war. his advice was probably half truths

took a detour through a narrow street lined with buildings that looked like they were built by angry toddlers with construction paper. *the leu main was plastered on a wall beside a flickering neon sign. i pressed my hand to it to see if it was warm. it wasn’t. just a stick. maybe that’s the point. this place doesn’t apologize. local whispers said the café du port has a haunted espresso machine. i tapped it. no ghosts. just a barista who wrinkled her nose at me when i asked for a latte. i don’t think i need a ghost. i need a latte. or maybe three

the pressure was 1012, which feels like it’s conspiring against us. humidity’s 61%, which is exactly the right amount to make your hoodie cling to your face like a second skin. i wore that hoodie anyway. it’s black. it’s defeated. i respect that

spent some time with a local who claimed to be a former shipping captain. he told me stories about cargo that never arrived and ships that sank in the fog. i asked if he ever found something weird. he said, i found a bottle of 1985 fanta. no label. still fizzy. i tried to edit this into a fictional movie scene. it failed. he rolled his eyes. maybe he knew i wasn’t serious

lunch was a gamble. i ate a halibut sandwich at a spot called the seafood dock. the place had zero reviews on yelp. i couldn’t find it either. maybe that’s why i’m here. the sandwich was okay. really, just okay. the salt on it was excessive. i asked a bystander if it was normal. they said, oh, that’s leu main. they salt everything to taste of the sea. i wasn’t sure if that was advice or a warning

in the afternoon, i wandered into a square with a blue parking sign that read parking prohibited in five different languages. a skateboarder parked their board on it anyway. he looked up at me and grinned. you’re wasting money,* he said. i nodded. we both understood. i should’ve recorded this. maybe it’s my next film idea

the sun set behind the harbor, painting the sky in colors that might’ve been on a 1980s record cover. i sat on a bench and watched the waves. someone told me they saw a ghost there-someone in a white coat walking towards the sea at dawn. i didn’t see anything. but the water felt… heavy. like it was holding its breath

now, i’m in a hostel that smells like lavender and regret. i checked a tripadvisor and saw that the previous guest said the Wi-Fi was ghosts. i’m not sure if that’s true. maybe it’s just slow. i’m streaming a french film about a man who communicates with glaciers. unrelated. probably. i need to sleep. but first, let me find a coffee shop. a coffee snob told me there’s one with beans that grow in sunlight. i don’t know if that’s real or a lie. i want it to be real

links: tripadvisor for the seafood dock | yelp review of the leu main | local board about ghost stories | unsplash images of ostend

i left with a camera, a half-empty coffee cup, and a new theory: maybe this cold is a metaphor. maybe 6.6°C is the exact temperature your soul needs to start questioning everything. or maybe i’m just sleep-deprived and hungry. probably the latter.

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About the author: Topiclo Admin

Writing code, prose, and occasionally poetry.

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