When I woke up today, I took my books and things and went out for a walk. I decided to get lost in a city I’ve made mine. Crossed the bridge to Buda, up the hillside and the crooked alleys, where the bricks fight for air. I was walking without looking at the beautiful strangers for a change. Avoiding the signs, the adverts, and my own reflection in the windows. As Bukowski would’ve wanted his women. See, sometimes I forget the space above me. As if I’ll trip if my eyes don’t watch the road. So I walked as if I was floating. Pulled by a kite in the sky. I followed the rooftops, the balconies, the clouds. Stopped at some unknown, jazzy corner cafe. Fitzgerald and cheap americanos. And I took myself back to two months ago. When I had just arrived in Budapest and got interviewed for Dori Varga Collection. I thought of my sudden and stormy escape from Stockholm. How I told Dori about “looking for new inspiration”. About searching for new challenges, new musicans and new streets to get lost in. And I realised I’m lost but home. Contradictions get me high. Things have gone fast. Call it luck or karma, but Budapest has been amazing to me. Guess I’m writing out of thankfulness. We’ve been playing at fantastic places. We’ve met incredible people. And loads of things are coming up. Next tuesday we’re playing on Buda. Then in Berlin, then Veszprém, then Stockholm. And I keep getting surprised at what I’m getting.
So thanks for asking, Facebook.
I’ll remember to fill you in, every now and then.
Much love, xx