Stras

(from 13 December 2009 - rediscovered)

I was excited to go to Strasbourg Saturday morning, but little did I know just how fun it would be. A small band of us instantly hit it off and spent the day acting blissfully idiotic in two different countries. We wandered the colorful, perhaps overly bustling Christkindlsmärik and the scarily upscale shopping streets, spending much of our time ogling the chocolates in the windows. Photos were both thoughtfully and thoughtlessly snapped, fingers were frozen, Kandinsky was discussed in very late French trains, and shrimp, wine and not-quite-right enchiladas were consumed at a lovely little hidden Spanish restaurant (Viva Zapata) back home in Saarbrücken. Orion, the Little Dipper and even Mars were spotted (as well as ice over the top of the permanent puddle!) on the rather extended 5-minute walk from the bus stop to Heim D and in the same space of time, impossible feats with a glowy whatsamajiggy on a rubber band were accomplished, in addition to several magnificent slips of the tongue. Jumby bunching, e.g.

There seems currently to be a rave taking place underneath my room. It's a small price to pay for such a fantastic day. I am almost disgustingly happy. This is exactly what college is supposed to be.

Too slow.

It is 5AM, and the sun over the bus stop is rising much too quickly. My face is buried in his shoulder, and his eyes I'm sure are closed while his arms are around me, pressing me close enough to feel that his breathing is unsettled. We stay like this for quite some time in a wistful silence. The tension is torturous, fascinating. A masterpiece of composition. "We'd make quite the sculpture, the way we are now."

--"A sculpture? Yes. The mothers would bring their children by, saying: See, children. This is what happens when you're too slow."

He says the forest at dawn is beautiful, but he wouldn't let me walk with him. Wär schön gewesen.