On People at the Train Station

True Loves,

Everything is closed here on Sunday except little America (the street with Starbucks, McDonalds, Burger King, SubWay and Hagan Daas all in a row) and the train station. This means on Sunday afternoons after I've laid in bed long enough to get restless I'll make a trip down to the train station. It's a little known fact that this is actually the resting place of the full moon.

What I mean by this is every crazy mo'fo seems to be at the train station. Long haired beggers who shake marakas at you, women with rashes on their faces and washed out eyes shaking their fists, and every pidgeon toed person you've ever seen...not that they can help it but have you ever seen a severely pidgeon toed person walk?

I don't know why I haven't learned my lesson, it goes from silly to creepy very fast. It's probably the only place in Germany where people make unwanted small talk with strangers. Ironically they'd all fit right in in the valley.

With Love,
Emily