Take me to the place where you go where nobody knows...
Coming down the river somewhere near the Makartplatz and on the way to Bricks, I watch as locals rush to the Wüstel Königin and dance to Denkmal in the street. I walk a few hundred meters on the sidewalk up and over the bridge to where a techno beat lingers but next door, at Bricks, it's always Oasis and somehow the two become a luscious mix and the soundtrack of the night....of every night. Salzburg is indesribable which is unfortunate because I want so badly to put texts to images and scripts to memories but my pencil refuses to cooperate with my brain, or something like that. At some point it only seems fair to give up trying because how do I adequately desribe the feeling of watching Austria and Poland play in a world cup qualifying match while I am in Austria sitting inbetween in Austrian friend and a Polish friend? Or feeling existent in my favorite bar singing along loudly to perfect songs with perfect memories and perfect friends until the sun begins to rise and my drunken, wounded body aches for sleep. As I am dragged on this trip abandon I see my favorite bar tender singing his heart out, I hear the clink of loose change that is never enough to buy what I need, boredom and exhaustion, hours spent in front of a torn up notebook, dirty bars and cobblestones, love and hate, and a best friendship that may sometimes bleed but in the end will out live all else.