20100626

Friday night in Pisa

    Buy a pint.
Drink a pint.
Buy a pint.
drink a pint.
Piss a pint.
Buy a pint.
Drink a pint.
Piss a pint.
Buy a pint.
Drink a pint.
Piss a pint.
Buy a pint.
Drink a pint.
Piss a pint.
Buy a pint.
Drink a pint.
Piss a pint.
Buy a pint.
Drink a pint.
Piss a pint.
Buy a pint.
Drink a pint.
Piss a pint.
Buy a pint.
Drink a pint.
Piss a pint.
Buy a pint.
Drink a pint.
Piss a pint.
Head back home.
Four indian dudes.
"This ain't Bollywood. I ain't gonna dance."
Laughter.
Home.
Post.
Read.
Sleep.

20100624

The odd little things one notices

    You know how each and every place has its own subtle smell, that triggers your memories when you go back to someplace you had been a long time ago, and reminds you of some moments in your past.
Pisa smells like cut grass that's been left to soak in summer rain for about a week. It's just that kind of sweet rotten stench.