MUNICH, GERMANY: A big green lake full of wanderers

Culturally, germany differs from much of the world. capitalize its title if You please.

id love to explain those differences to You. the differences that make it solid and beautiful to me. id love to take all ive seen and pour it into the broth of a soup fitted for a magicians dinner. a dinner he would enjoy immensely and thereafter expel my intricate details to You in a delicate and slighted manner with his trickz... a manner You might have to prepare Yourself to handle, before he begins. but i cannot make this broth for him. too many indgredients.

all of this has been special, but not an quick special. a progressive special. a three month adventure that started in los angeles with a best friend and a shotty ticket...four boxes and no reason but to survive the realization of my own ´far-fetched´ dream. moved on to the mediterranean, where only moving pictures and silent suits mattered. then from train to train i travelled with my best stranger friends...up the coast, we cooked a bit in the west. on to paris, i then was, where foreign babies made my body stop aching with one simple note, stroked in their vocal chambers. a giggle. and there, the street lights of paris said more in one glimmer...than do these here thousand letters surely say about my experience.

now with more freckles and newfound interest in more than a few things of the world, i lay in germany and dream slightly of nothing, all the while of it all. my bed at home. deciduous forests. trains passing. theatrical french lions dancing. purple and yellow fashion boys walking. oysters hopping. subtitles teaching. waves winking. cobble stones sinking. red ladders falling. raspberries growing. spacesbars clicking. hitler yelling. bread baking in france. chocolate waiting in germany. wine tasting in paris. insomnia in altdorf. the lake. the offish windows. the unbound naked beach chidlren. honest gentlemen. antenna bayern. complex days of simply studying interaction. bound by nothing but stuck to paper, forever, i am. until the hours of the morning that no one in the world actually gets through. no matter the sunds position. and still home is waiting. the home that roman gods did not annoint with power or gift to their rivals in fear of war.

but Home. the home that defines what You think You never need when You need everything You used to have, before You left it for something crazy.