Picked up my sun-tanned buddy in the city, who just hiked several weeks one of the longest trails in Sweden. We stopped in Nollendorfplatz for my favorite place to get a Cortado. Note they do not appear on the menu. We ate octopus tapas on Golzstrasse, with my friend anxious to tell her road trip stories, which naturally included countless intrigues. We played loud music in the car on the ride to take her back home. Received a poem about clouds from an old lover, and wondered if they were his own words. I didn’t ask, it doesn’t matter, as long as we still exist for each other, knowing a zillion scattered clouds separate us.
The Kungsleden Trail, Impala Cafe in Nollendorf Platz, Phohito on Golzstrasse, Ramenez la coupe a la maison, Anonymous poems about clouds.
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