August 10, 2015

I was waiting outside of a storefront in a dimly lit alley. Someone came by and I told them that I didn’t live here when they asked. Dawn was just breaking when I saw my dad so I asked him if he was having a long night or simply woke up early. It turned out to be a long night as he had just gotten back from Stockholm. He commented on how “Americans don’t like to work”.

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It was an yearly tradition to shoot someone out of a cannon after praying for the protection of a local deity. There seemed to be a few misunderstandings every year though as some of the offerings go “unnoticed” without a specific ritual.

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I was standing on the balcony of a restaurant with my father and he asked what kind of music I liked. I started beatbox and improvised a few tunes on the spot, as my musical tastes were never really well defined. If I enjoyed what I was hearing now then I guess it must have been enough, right?