remember when i said tomorrow? i meant next week.

In July i went to London for a whole week. On my own. I spent the days just walking around, walking to Hyde Park, Moorgate, Shoreditch, see some bands, get a pint or two in a pub and come home to my Hostel very very tired and very very happy. For someone who is generally quite afraid of being alone with herself i managed it well. I soaked up everything London had to offer and felt genuinely content and at ease. I think the photos show that. I squeezed in a trip to Brighton, i'll show you some photos of tomorrow. Read: next week.

Saturday.

My Saturday in Photobooth.

I finally got my hands on the third book of the 1Q84-series by Murakami. I saw it, i grabbed it (i paid) and then i read the first 30 pages straight away, whilst walking.

And while the evening progresses and plans are in the making i fill my kitchen with the smell of roasted cauliflower and the sounds of my Howlin' Wolf-compilation i picked up in Brighton.

Promise a HUGE update tomorrow with Summer and Autumn and London and Berlin and all the other Shenanigans.

The Chicken

The Chicken

As I was walking down Stanton Street one Sunday morning,

I saw a chicken a few yards ahead of me.

I was walking faster than the chicken, so I gradually caught up.
By the time we approached Eighteenth Avenue,

I was close behind.
The chicken turned south on Eighteenth.
At the fourth house along, it turned in at the walk,

hopped up the front steps, and rapped sharply on the metal storm door with its beak.

After a moment, the door opened and the chicken went in.

Linda Elegant
Portland, Oregon

Taken from "I Thought My Father was God" by Paul Auster , a Collection of True Tales.

Ich liebe Kurzgeschichten und das ist vielleicht die beste die ich je gelesen habe.
Teil des National Story Project, das von Paul Auster initiiert wurde. Ein Geschichtenerzälprojekt des National Public Radio in dem Paul Auster dazu aufrief, ihm Geschichten zu schicken.

Wahre Geschichten, die den gängigen Vorstellungen der Welt zuwiderliefen.

Wahre Geschichten, die wie erfunden klangen.

Grosse und kleine Dinge, tragische und komische Begebenheiten, jederlei Erfahrung, die es wert schienen, niedergeschrieben zu werden.
In diesem Buch zusammengefasst sind 126 Geschichten,

unterteilt in verschiedenen Überbegriffe wie "Fremde", "Gegenstände", "Krieg", "Träume" oder "Liebe".

Ich lese das Buch jetzt zum dritten Mal innerhalb eines Jahres und es wird nie weniger sondern immer nur mehr.

Und musikalisch bin ich grade ganz verrückt nach
Holly Throsby feat. Bonnie Prince Billy
"Would you?"