I miss you already.
I miss the endless stream of beer in Teltow. The Festival of Folk. Falling asleep at 4AM on the rickety trains whilst trying to avoid the ticket inspectors. I don’t miss getting arrested.
I miss the strange cement and plastic of Berlin, falling into strange bars where the folks are high and breathing through an amplifiers in order to express themselves.
I miss the gorgeous Czech girls. I don’t miss those tourists. Or the kebabs.
I miss the sweet night air, busking on a bridges and on cobbled streets in South Germany with dear ol' Ed. I don’t miss the bloody cops.
I miss all the gin consumed in Saarbrücken.
I miss the carousels in Strasbourg and the fine french food and wine. You could grow old in a place like that.
Paris you were chaotic. I miss not knowing what will happen next or who the hell I might bump into. I miss staring at you up on Montmartre. I miss getting high neath the Eiffel and being followed by a strange hooded girl. I don’t miss your taxi strikes (when we had to catch a plane). Nor your 13Euro gins.
Sweden! I miss you most of all.
Your almost summer time. Lying topless in your little green parks, finding lakes and music in the country side, and driving home in the bright night, watching the fog cling to the ground like spiderwebs.
The hummus and dips we ate.
The way you dress better then me.
The way you have interior design sorted.
Oh and I miss the strange divide, the hot and the cold in your personalities. You were never afraid to tell me to shut up or to tell me your opinion. But your policemen never told me to shut up.
busking in Götgaten in Stockholm at midnight was a special time.
But busking in Gothenburg was not. But you guys know how to put on a show and party till time is no more.
I miss Malmö. I didn’t spend enough time in you. Next time I will…
Oh and the living rooms shows we played.
AND Leipzig. Back in ol' Germany. You have a special thing going on which I won’t tell anybody about because I want to preserve it. Haha.
Ah but you know who I miss most of all. The people. My friends. New and old. Everyone on the streets throwing coins, smiles, and roses. The friends who just hung out and joined Ed and I on our journey. The people who put Ed and I up for a day. A week. A month. And fed us. Created shows for us and then got people to our shows. You know who you are. And well, we achieved life together. So thank you for that. Thank you for those blessings.
See you next year. Fingers crossed.
PS. Don't forget to read what actually happened when I went out and busked. Here is the blog link (Start from post 31) : http://musketeermusic.tumblr.com/