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Monday, December 04, 2006


For at least an hour I have been in a small day dream that I am back in Vienna.

Picture it. Its July, maybe even August - the height of summer. Bright sunshine, warm breezes, barely any shade in the entire city, the need for ice cream is astounding. This is the hottest it has been all year. I'm waiting for the U-Bahn, going somewhere at about noon. Perhaps on a Saturday. Maybe shopping somewhere to buy things which I do not need, yet want to have very much. The train pulls into the station. It is filled with all sorts of people, tourists, locals, pets, and a very angry old man. Some fat lady has just stepped on his foot trying to get out of the train, that bitch. I squeeze into the train just in front of the doors before they close behind me, locking me in, and some grimy looking old man is using the ceiling handle right above my head. And he hasn't washed. In weeks.

But it is not a day dream. There is a man in my flat painting the place so it will look all shiny and pretty, and I can tell you with a great amount of certainty that he? He hasn't washed either.

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