going going gone

A large part of becoming an adult is learning how to remain a child.

People one meets in hostels -- phantasms, physical representations of ephemera, doors that are just as real as they are imaginary, flung open in a way proportionate to the amount of revelations one can have. It is all music, all intervals, sudden loss of electricity that turns everyone to cigarettes and noise-making. I will see your never. Herringbone. Houndstooth. Paisley. Arabesque on ice.

"Coma is for the living." -- Beckett, Malone Dies

I'll be back in five weeks.
Them bears ain't got nuthin' on me.

trainfood

eating on trains has become quite a trend in my life; it is something to look forward to, plan for...
I am clearly not alone.

  

 
more updates here, photographic and not

coastlife

some pretty old jars beside the archaeological museum

I would like to meet the forty-four Jews of Constanța.

It's been all beach & kebab and ruins. Jeff's here. We've been eating lots of cheese [and kebabs; I've temporarily relinquished my vegetarianism for a variety of reasons].

Some Frenchmen are incomprehensible.

some small realities

Shemdegi sadguri: Bucuresti [tomorrow]

People, Sibiu:

 

streets just grow out of other streets, archways, holes in walls

The historical museum has a room full of gravestones, mostly 17th century

 a humorous approach to restoration

further evidence of my continuing presence

 I am planning to do a whole post of stained glass windows sometime soon. Gathering evidence, I guess.

Head Cheese and Texas Country

Somehow, head cheese has become a running joke in my hostel in Cluj, after I mentioned it once. Somehow, the joke is sexual.

I also found out that "Texas Country" is apparently a whole separate genre of music.I am fairly certain it is my new least favorite genre of music.