9th October...

The man travelled once to this faraway place where there was a bridge which had a tower where people ate. It was such a difficult bridge to build and he thought one day people may eat in its viewing platform. Then like always it would fall to ruin. But the bridge still holds strong. He marvelled in this place with it's cake-like blue church built by a triangle with an eye inside. He wondered around this place with a group of tourists which all spoke in different languages. They were young and on happy adventures. He ate simple food and pancakes. He loved the pancakes. They had tapestries of a sad love affair of old in the big house. They had a man who played all the instruments at once. They had a man who made very quick pictures here. He felt somehow at home in this place. It wasn't one of those places that seemed not to exist between places. He missed the river of his home. He wanted so much for equilibrium in this place. But it was a place between places. Windmills to the right. Factories to the right. He longed to understand the language. A language which for now still alluded him.