Today way Max’s final last day in Vienna. He’s kind of had three due to his repeatedly post-poned departure because of the Eyafjallajöküll-themed travel troubles that have shaken Europe in the course of last week. The situation made for a couple of precious extra days together, but also a quite agonizingly stretched out good-bye.
We spent the day making and eating Hendlpörkölt, and somewhere inbetween went to the Thomas Bernhard exhibition at the Theatermuseum.
This is us, there. We live here but we’re sightseers.
Now he’s gone to catch his train (to Frankfurt, then Paris, then Poitiers), I'm fighting the numb emptiness with music, while browsing through the photos taken during the last 3 weeks.
40 more days. Then good will be allowed to be called normal.
I wonder what that’s like, like.