Oh fuck, Vass. Crunchy peanut butter halva?
Waking up singing “I was a Teenage Anarchist” and “Gone Mad”, lazy 11am breakfast reading a new book, afternoon of grinding and roasting spices, prepping roe deer meat from the local Wildfleischhandel, shopping for dinner and the week, baking a pile of banana energy bars, murdering up a Baltistan curry while chatting with Gala, eating said curry while returning to book, bit of sci-fi telly with cardamom chocolate, the apartment soaking the whole day in rich scents and cooking, and now all that but 2 hours of the day done. I just want to remember about a perfect a day as I can have.
My flatmate is the best flatmate. (Was fully delicious. I scoffed it in bed while hooning the Regenbogen Autobahn. And followed it with a block of chocolate. Also was the full moon. Oh! And taken with my new, sci-fi iPhone SE. First images even.)
A week this time. To Flughaven Schönefeld, then to Bruxelles Airport, raining once more, grey from B to B. Here to see Hans (tonight), Jan (Friday in Antwerpen), and Gala (every day!). Others also, though only these three can for more than an instant distract me from…
Berlin has the best bread, but Brussels, the best chocolate.
I took some photos this morning, from Gala’s new apartment, then we went for a run, first time in over a year, only 5km or a bit under, but nice to feel bones, nerves, air, movement, run uphill, around the park downhill, and trying toe-first style instead of thumping heels.
A rainy day indoors, ah the day turns to greyness and sun guttered behind does the city turn ever more sullen, only the sopping brick clinging onto colour.
Off to see Hans.
Yes, really we laughed a lot.
Eat eat eat eat drink eat sleep beach sleep eat eat sleep eat drink sleep beach sleep eat eat eat … ummmm … I think that was Saturday and Sunday and Monday with all the Paskas family.
I was very, very drunk.