Nesfe Jahan, pt 4

25 August 2010

I made it to Budapest faster than it would have taken by train. But this is not what matters. I was actually not what matters. I originally wanted to go to Pecs, in the south of Hungary. Perhaps in an attempt to avoid a capital city, perhaps because it’s description reminded me a lot of Leuven. But in the end, a combination of gas-station-missing snoozing and faulty navigation computers caused my Ukranian driver to take the most direct route East, straight through the city centre. So, I bit the bullet, and hopped off. And immediately found very good hospitality at a friend I made only a couple of days before.

A couple of hours later. I see a couple taking pictures. Afterwards, a couple making out. And I wonder who’s right. They notice, and I quickly continue, embarrassed to have disturbed their reverie. And I keep on walking. This city looks like a neglected Vienna. A tomb of a Turkish poet, wonderfully restored.. Hungarians are friendly people with no desire for revenge. Random big city problems. The street plan is so predictable it’s not fun anymore. I smoke, and I wish the river would smell like the sea. I have to hustle if I want to see the Adriatic. I’ve got a date with Istanbul on the 16th. And I’m going to go nuts if  I stay in cities like this. I would live here if  it’s placidity wasn’t so damn familiar. And I keep on walking.

My whole brain was out of tune (x2) I don’t know how to tune a brain, do you? I went into a brain shop They said they’d have to rebuild the whole head I said well, do what you got to do When I got my brain back It didn’t work right I didn’t have as many good ideas I haven’t had a good idea since I got it fixed Morphine, interlude during the Bootleg Detroit concert