starting in 1995, dear sir. something reminds me of the flight. i don’t know why i didn’t want to go to a museum in the whole city, but only to look for shoes and booklets, pizza bianca, iced coffee, winston in the soft pack. downstairs in the deli they stuff pastrami into bagels, cut up all kinds of fruit for convenient snack boxes, there are plenty of cold and sweet drinks. / the air conditioners in the car and the office give me fits that make the family think something is wrong with these germans. on the last day i borrow some money from the arabs wally, which i use to buy a basketball. the sister is not thrilled, i should have invested it in :culture:. come home with a suitcase full of nikes, dickies, stüssy shirts and other stuff… most of it is stolen from me by the brother in the course of time. debth: the 50$ i send back years later, but i send it anyway, i think.