4AM. It is dark, and cold and it rains since yesterday. Sunday. I look over the window and I see a group of 4 punks, 3 boys and a girl, across the street, sheltering on the stairs of the residence building in front. They're all packed together in one square meter, almost one on top of another, circulating a joint and a bottle of vodka. They seem to have a good time, laughing, talking gesticulating but they keep the noise down. German kids, coming from good families probably understanding some basic laws of life in society. DND mode on. It makes sense right ?
I continued to look at them for a while, and then I pulled the curtains and crank up the heater from 2 to 3. Just watching it rain it gives me chills. Why am I not sleeping?
I pick up a book at random and start reading out loud. Romeo and Juliet - by William Shakespeare. Oh fuck no not this one. Romantic love; all of a sudden I feel like taking a shit. I look for my phone and run to the bathroom. I scroll a bit instagram but then nr 2 comes, I squeeze it out, and I turn around to grab the roll of paper from the water tank. I find it, but right next to it I see a line of white powder. Hmmm... I wipe my ass, flush, wash my hands, and look again carefully at the white powder. What this could be... I go in the living room, grab two square post-its and carefully collect the entire thing. I sit at my desk, with the lamp on, looking at the powder trying to figure out what it is while I'm replaying in my mind all the people that have visited me in the past 2 weeks. But nobody used the bathroom!! Strange. I wet my little finger and dip it in, then put it on the tip of my tongue.
Cocaine. instant anaesthesia and that characteristic freshness. Hmm.. my thoughts are rushing remembering my last contact with this substance. It was about 12 years ago, I was in Berlin, in a bar, with a friend of mine and a stranger who wanted to fuck her. The entire night he was basically giving us drinks and cocaine for free. Terrific combo, we had no limit, he had no limit, we went feral and became best friends. I have flashback memories of that night at some point I was puking in a toilet. I felt bad, and I said never again. That was it.
I thought to flush it down the drain for a split second. I look at it, a big fat line, good quality. I dip my finger again in it, and I feel a wave of emotion that suddenly makes me smile. I know what's going to happen. I'm gonna snort this... But the seed of that thought hit on arid soil. I can't do that. If I do, I will feel like shit. And its just one line, no.. maybe I should keep it for guests ? Hi, would you fancy some tea George ? green tea or black tea? or maybe a line of coke ? Absurd.
I end up folding it in that postit and placing it in the Romeo and Juliet book.
Sitting on the couch, I try to figure out how, or when that line of coke ended up there when, all of a sudden, I have a flash of insight! I'm not the only one who has the keys of this apartment. Someone else must've gotten in while I was not home, used the toiled, snorted some cocaine and walked away forgetting this one last line there.
I look for footmarks, and check to see if i was missing something. All good apparently. I try to forget about it and start reading something else. its 5 AM soon, the punks left, and I feel sleepy.
I switch off everything and go to bed.
I continued to look at them for a while, and then I pulled the curtains and crank up the heater from 2 to 3. Just watching it rain it gives me chills. Why am I not sleeping?
I pick up a book at random and start reading out loud. Romeo and Juliet - by William Shakespeare. Oh fuck no not this one. Romantic love; all of a sudden I feel like taking a shit. I look for my phone and run to the bathroom. I scroll a bit instagram but then nr 2 comes, I squeeze it out, and I turn around to grab the roll of paper from the water tank. I find it, but right next to it I see a line of white powder. Hmmm... I wipe my ass, flush, wash my hands, and look again carefully at the white powder. What this could be... I go in the living room, grab two square post-its and carefully collect the entire thing. I sit at my desk, with the lamp on, looking at the powder trying to figure out what it is while I'm replaying in my mind all the people that have visited me in the past 2 weeks. But nobody used the bathroom!! Strange. I wet my little finger and dip it in, then put it on the tip of my tongue.
Cocaine. instant anaesthesia and that characteristic freshness. Hmm.. my thoughts are rushing remembering my last contact with this substance. It was about 12 years ago, I was in Berlin, in a bar, with a friend of mine and a stranger who wanted to fuck her. The entire night he was basically giving us drinks and cocaine for free. Terrific combo, we had no limit, he had no limit, we went feral and became best friends. I have flashback memories of that night at some point I was puking in a toilet. I felt bad, and I said never again. That was it.
I thought to flush it down the drain for a split second. I look at it, a big fat line, good quality. I dip my finger again in it, and I feel a wave of emotion that suddenly makes me smile. I know what's going to happen. I'm gonna snort this... But the seed of that thought hit on arid soil. I can't do that. If I do, I will feel like shit. And its just one line, no.. maybe I should keep it for guests ? Hi, would you fancy some tea George ? green tea or black tea? or maybe a line of coke ? Absurd.
I end up folding it in that postit and placing it in the Romeo and Juliet book.
Sitting on the couch, I try to figure out how, or when that line of coke ended up there when, all of a sudden, I have a flash of insight! I'm not the only one who has the keys of this apartment. Someone else must've gotten in while I was not home, used the toiled, snorted some cocaine and walked away forgetting this one last line there.
I look for footmarks, and check to see if i was missing something. All good apparently. I try to forget about it and start reading something else. its 5 AM soon, the punks left, and I feel sleepy.
I switch off everything and go to bed.
