Rostock

I spontaneously hopped on a train to Rostock last night for Marten’s farewell party. What else was I going to do, stay home? We drank through the whole night, got destroyed at foosball, ate döner and donuts at six in the morning—all of it was exactly what a send-off party should be. His friends are the right kind of weird, the specific constellation that only happens in certain places with certain people. The conversations that make sense at three in the morning after too much beer, where random things somehow feel profound.

Marten shot the whole night on actual film, so we’re waiting for the photos to develop. I basically lived on trains yesterday and somewhere between Rostock and Berlin I ran into Kai, this friend I hadn’t seen in years, one of those random encounters that only happens on trains. By the time I got home I was completely wrecked, so I just put Camp Rock on and called it a night. The trip was stupid to make on zero notice, but it’s the kind of stupid that feels right.