The End is Nigh (We Are The Flowers In Your Dustbin)

Friday night I met Eva by chance for the first time. Well, not really, but somehow yes. A little later Sandra and Linlin adorned me with a crystal necklace which everyone seemed to like, or they just found me ridiculous. Andreas of Die Welt said I looked like a cosmic high priest when I bumped into him on the way to the bathroom. Steph and I spoke about flirting and the self-extinction of the Japanese, and the Herero tribe in the early 20th century. I left in the blink of an eye, hopped into a cab and sped to a friend’s place in Kopfstraße. I sat on the kitchen floor with some young skinheads and drank spiked vodka tonics while a black cat lingered around. We left and walked a long way to the club, which turned out to be quite empty, yet some of us danced nevertheless. Some people at the edge of the dancefloor laughed at us. My vision was shuttered and fragmented. We left again towards the plush nightmare. We stayed until the end.

My 60pages tour is coming to an end and there is much more to write about that I cannot choose what to actually write. I keep postponing, saving up posts, maybe, I think, maybe I should stop at 59.