Shared calamity.
Alienation may not surpass the threshold. At one point, the individual chooses the apocalypse over its private downfall.

On the farmer’s market, a charming man in his mid fifties makes me buy a communist newspaper. He is standing next to the grumpy seller of slightly overpriced tomatoes. I buy them every week. His grumpiness makes up for the all too friendly average farmer’s market participant.
I add him to my social diet for reasons of diversity and nostalgia, nostalgia for grumpy old German people who give you the evil look for reasons, I will yet have to explore, by getting older myself.
Standing in the thick fumes of bbq-ed buffalo chunks and beef patties the size of a buffalo, I hear and see a black senior masterfully playing a saxophone made of plastic drainpipes. My bag full of tomatoes and about to buy the paper, I get to realize that I do not miss the absence of principles.

I saw the Batman of the 50s driving his Batmobil in fast motion, all colors vibrant. A candy cane stage travelling with him, extending miles and miles into an otherwise all too realistic wasteland.

Never eat alone.
I tried to order a sesame beagle – causing myself and the girl behind the counter to share some laughter. The beautiful moment later would trouble my imagination: how to depict a sesame beagle?

typo of the day: nagelus novus

Similar to this, in Fitzgerald’s ‚This Side of Paradise‘.
– „I’m in love with change and I’ve killed my conscience.“
– „So, you’ll go along crying that we must go faster.“

to be ahead of the game
does put you in front of the
one who is already being hunted