da place

carissimi, I am at home listening to a vintage "Doves" album (well, if vintage is 7 years...)
Coming back home tonight after spending one evening having very interesting conversations with Jasmina. I could not find parking place. So I park in the middle of nowhere. Basically at the end of my street. Walking back with freaking big computer bag on my back. Heard some nice interesting music coming from a place. I go in, big computer bag and everything, long iceland ice tea docet. And I find that there is a really cool place right on my street, close to the möbel design studio, with kids dressed fancy, with nice music, and with fake cardboard guitars stuck on the wall. The prophecy happens: why should fancy people go live in fucking expensive places when they can come close to Frankfurt's fair in what is considered gallusviertel, i.e. turkish quarter, spend nothing and not having neighbours complaining about noise? There you go.
For some reason I think I think the beer got rotten in the fridge, it tastes like liquerizia. wassever. ossequi.