My Favourite Place in Germany

…is probably the Verbindungskanal in Manheim.

The mossy, glass-ridden structrue wherein I sit forms a char-brown skeleton of industry, reaching, broken, to the sky, wearing audio tape and bottle tops at its feet.

The concrete base of the thing is a home to hobos, and the rocks around descend to a mass of still, sludge water, that dreams of blue in its black reflections.

Odd-looking beside a line un-naturally straight, somehow assymetrical of nature, and gradually tinting and tainting in the gunk and debris, is one white swan.

Without rhythm, the machinery calls distance by its artbitrary black-sounded drumming, between the husky songs of the overpass and the tittering birdsongs that play lightly about the hum.

One constant anonymous pitch, that is not uncomfortable or obtrusive, high up above the sound of children who play, railcars that pass, and the intermitent skateboard or bicycle.

I swear that swan just swore at me.

The horizon is an industry drama of giant robots. Neon Genesis Evangelion.

There is a stain beside me. I do not think about it.

A door, half way up a dead wall. – It is still a door.

How is it, that broken factory buildings are my favourite? Perhaps the red bricks have me reminded of home. Can the jagged mess here be making me homesick, or perhaps nostalgic…

Either way, the next show is in Paris, and I don’t believe it’ll be much like this there. It’ll be all cafe’s and cab rides. But I can just learn to live with that.