(no subject)
returned from weimar late last night. you can smoke aboard trains here, i watched the frigid white landscape slide by as i pulled drags and mouthed lyrics. the camp didn't move me as i had feared, anticipated, almost craved. the space was void and still and it was so cold i couldn't sense the weight of my body or the weight of the past because the sun was hazy and the way it graced the snow in the haze it was almost like that didn't exist either. the buildings were destroyed. it's not something you can write about. and i can't tell you whether i shivered so from the wind or the history.
we stayed in a hostel, i'd never stayed in a hostel before, drank beer with bavarian high school students in the cold dry cellar. ryan vomited and fell off his bed. we had drunken enraged fake arguments about morality. we played beer pong and kings and 20 questions. went outside to smoke. held our secrets in and spit them out. ice skated in our socks around the old wooden floors. it was as if i had somehow slipped back into my first year at hampshire. museums and gravestones and coffee and i think it was good.
we stayed in a hostel, i'd never stayed in a hostel before, drank beer with bavarian high school students in the cold dry cellar. ryan vomited and fell off his bed. we had drunken enraged fake arguments about morality. we played beer pong and kings and 20 questions. went outside to smoke. held our secrets in and spit them out. ice skated in our socks around the old wooden floors. it was as if i had somehow slipped back into my first year at hampshire. museums and gravestones and coffee and i think it was good.