She Came Back

There were two interns at this place once—a guy named Max and a girl named Wenke—and we did what you do: took them in, got briefly obsessed, then let them vanish without much ceremony. Sulfur, damnation, expired Pepsi. The usual ending.

Wenke survived. She’s 23, she’s blonde, and apparently she was paying attention the whole time, because now she has her own blog. No grand concept, which is honestly fine—the best blogs rarely do. What she’s got instead is a nose for the kind of stories actually worth reading: drugs, artistic catastrophes, feelings that don’t fit neatly into a category. She learned things while she was here, not just how to make coffee, and it shows. I love it.