Marcel Winatschek

No Souls

May night. There were riots and chaos happening—property destruction, the usual insanity. We’d had plans, wanted to get out and be part of it, but the more we tried to organize anything the more everything fell apart. This is just who we are: spontaneous or nothing. So the big party caravan through Landsberg we’d been talking up turned into a night of drinking, shisha, and South Park at my place instead.

MTV saved the evening. Some episode taught us things: red-haired people have no souls, for one. You shouldn’t throw throwing stars at small blonde kids. And you’re definitely not invisible on stage no matter how hard you believe you are, clothes on or off.

I tried instant noodles for the first time that night. Just grabbed a pack without thinking. They’re good—better than expected. The kind of thing that sticks with you enough that you remember it after.