Recursive
I remember a night in Berlin. It was much like the rest of my time in Berlin, squeezed into too little time with too little sleep: a whirlwind of black clothes, cheap beer, sweat, futons, and parks, dovetailed with sunrises and sunsets in the wrong order. I met a girl that I seemed to go in fast forward with. Itzi. She was awkward and crazy, and seemed to hold the same bizarre mix of fear & admiration, distain & respect, that I find so common and precious. I am not made for the sane ones. It ran the gambit from acceptance to rejection to reconciliation, careening through the night until the sun rose and broke our little fairy tale. A life within an evening.
Recursive.
Currently Listening: M83 - Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts (album)