Just resting and staying at home for a day, watching a few movies that are neither salty nor bland, impetuous and a little uneasy, thinking about the various things that may be forced by life next week, not really slackening, and even doubting my own waste.
In the evening, when the lover did not return, he drank alone, watching such a movie, the condensed black and white images, not much self-contrast, but a lot of magnified parts that enhance the sense of touch.
Sometimes being unaware of one's own state is a kind of happiness, because awareness means thinking, and thinking must be accompanied by pain.
View more about A Coffee in Berlin reviews
