-I wake up in the morning and run off to work. There, I deal with numbers and they dwell with me. They line up and crash down. Twelve digit numbers, thirteen, even fourteen... All waiting to be memorized and transformed into percents, prices, worker codes.
28474
That's me right there.
I get to work, I swipe my card, I type in numbers for 7 hours, I swipe my card again and I can go home.
I make money- more numbers that grind themselves into my bank account, to airplanes and airports and shiny eyes.
Nevertheless, as I walk through the pearly gates to the dilapidated Bulgarian airplane, my heart sinks slightly inside my chest: I'm coming for you, my Europe.
Two hours later I'm walking along the pavement of the Bulgarian airport parking lot and I just can't help myself. I'm inlove with this continent, this province, this land. But inlove is such a cliché... My strong feelings cannot be described by words and my eyes are too heavy to seek the right ones.
The air is different.
She's a Goddess. A beutiful queen, gorgeous ice and salt and power, gliding slowly through the snow and wind. Her blue eyes pierce right through me, make me feel so ugly and small compare to her. Mein Europa. A crown to my head, a mistress to my bed. She's the embodiment of all that's perfect and cold and distant. Collected carefully from mystery, cruelty and black ice. She's lakes and black forests and snakes on the ground. She's the manifest of all the legends and fairytales I wanted to be a part of.
And so I was.
On her gown of foreign lands I danced in front of all.
"Let me dance for you my Europa, My lady, My queen. Let me dance for your hungry men, with their electric blue eyes glazed from Bier and thirsty for flesh. Bitte, look at me, devour me with your eyes and lick your dry lips. I can feel your cold blood warming up".
Europe is the only thing I could never have. I could never reach enough, touch enough, taste enough. It's a flutter of a Schmetterling on my left cheek, quick and beautiful and gone.
Ich bin krank. Krank mit Leidenschaft to get it all inside my skin and in my bones, all this green and blue and bloody red. All this Europe, Mein geliebtes Europa. I want this queen of endless time to sink into me and swim in my marrow. It's the only place where the clocks stop and rewind over and over again and rest upon your head, a crown of serenity, until you board that airplane again. With her Saint Sebastian, Saint Patrick and Saint John, she pulls me like a moth to a flame.
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