The bar of the failed lives (part 1)
"The bar of the failed lives," Mathias
Bursa
three clock at night. a cheap bar somewhere in Vienna. the stool has been my weight for 4 clock noon. That was the time where I've entered the hut and a beer to destroy the other. left me an old become hard rocker. under his black pirate scarf curled his white, thin hair had become. His deep wrinkles on their face to show the cruelty of age and erzälen of better times, dreaming of, probably of many disappointments. otherwise he would not clock up 3 nights in this damned bar sitting next to me and to his tiefn Cola Rum look. he is silent, sits hunched over his glass and leaves every 5 minutes a sigh that will probably entice someone to talk into his world. Normally
I would speak to him, ask him what is going on, alla kum, ma dei dazähl gschicht i hear there zua ... But nciht today. Today I needed someone to even listen to me. But this fact I will not admit to myself, so I bezauberden the only beings in this bar, the waitress already taken a severe, Lalle: "Ludmilla, to give ma no tequila and a beer." communication so that my workload is aufgebracuht. I also more Bruach ncih. Kutz time later the deputy I ma tequilla into brain and rinse it with a sip of beer down. was the last sip of the last bottle ... I hate the last sip ... no idea whether he is really disgusting, or whether it is the last spark of some that wants to tell me that already another beer is empty.
now it is half past three.
To be continued ... maybe ...
'd like some feedback ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment