it feels like home

Yesterday was a sunday. And what're we doing on a sunday?
Right, it's a day dedicated to the family, you spend time with your loved ones and everything is easypeasy. Well, not exactly for me,'cos I'm far away from home.

That's why I decided to spend the night at mother bar (my substitute for love). And after spending more than 3 hours dyeing my hair at a russian hairdresser's, where nobody understood my english, I felt ready and blond enough to go out.
Everything was still the same, the red satin wallpaper with its beautiful golden leaves, the sticky dancefloor and the strange crowed (I had become a part of, so long ago).
It was a good night out, the music became better with every drink I had and I would like to point out, that I didn't actually see the mouse running across my foot, so I strongly believe it must have been something else. I also believe that Robbie, the fast foreward guy, previously fell into a time hole and got confused by the fact that: The minute you see someone and the minute you fuck someone are often two different events in time even if the word "minute" is the same in both phrases. Apart from that I admired the mid 50's guy with the cowboy hat and the hawaiian shirt who, according to TJ must have been living in Australia most of his life and has at least 7 children, (not that he'd know any of them.) Oh, and since we all know London's big ben, I guess I'm lucky I met London's little ben, even if that was a really bad joke right now. I came home late that day, a bit tipsy but with a warm feeling in my stomach, that I got rid of with the leftovers of Mae's organic sandwiches, that weren't really organic, but healthy.