The best place to have lunch, or late breakfast, sometimes even some early dinner, in the 15th district of wonderful Vienna, not far from the great castle Schönbrunn, is right in front of a supermarket. Right across from a bank, next to a Chinese variety shop selling all kinds of junk. Next to the bank is a small nail makeover shop.
Speaking of nailing: On the very same corner where I now sit, everyday from 6 in the evening until 5 or so in the morning the poorest of Vienna´s prostitutes will offer a blowjob for thirty, a fuck for fifty and they´ll nag you for free.
"Hey, Schöner! Willst du was machen? Gemma ficki ficki!"
I don´t suppose much needs to be translated.
The tramway passes like a red, black and gray shuttle in some 80ies sci-fi show. Right on the corner diagonally opposed to my comfy seat on faux marmor and glass portals lies a fishmonger. He tempts me with the smell of kelp and brine, of oysters and crabs. How I long to see the sea again.
Waves crashing mercilessly on rocky shores. Jumping from cliff to cliff, always knowing that one haphazard jump, one wrong step will cut up your legs or worse.
A few scratches.
Itchy.
Like green dreadlocks, like emerald noodles on salty soup the Chilean Cochayuyo floats on the submerged crags, softly swaying in high tide, flaccidly collapsed in low waters.
Don´t step on the green stones. They´re slippery.
Lessons learned at the right age are seldom forgotten.
Several quite beautiful ladies wander past my lofty throne on the streets. Most will probably respond when asked about their occupation by saying they were studying (some of them might even be), others will work in customer relations.
I´m quite sure though that unfortunately a large percentage of these women can be found every night in the more expensive bars, seedy coffee-shops and whorehouses in the area.
The clocksmith´s display watch says "Eterna" - and yet it´s but an instant.
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