I am discovering, all over again, why I fell in love with Vienna in the first place. After a few broody days (everything sucks... I suck... I'll end up under a bridge chewing on my own clothes for breakfast...), my spirit is recovering. Where I yesterday only could make out a grey depressing haze of a town, today I am seeing with crystal clarity why this city is the city of my dreams.
Vienna is nothing if not inspiring. You get such terrific visual pleasure as these here bonbons, for example. Little chocolate masterpieces of human creativity. I mean, who would not want to suck on a pair of pink marzipan breasts with tiny, but oh so hard, little nipples? Or dig your teeth into a sweet marzipan baked potato with white sauce and let out a bark of satisfaction?
On the opposite side of the street, for another sort of pleasure, you get this to get you going.
Who could pass this exquisite painting without stopping as if hit by lightning? A bad bad girl, getting hit by a bad bad nun. There is a letter on the floor. I wonder what was in the letter that was sinful enough to get the girl a spanking like that? There seems to be a drawing too, and one can only begin to imagine the perverted things that were going on between the girl and her lover.
And that's then how stories are born. Through a walk in the city and looking. I am ashamed of all the time I spend inside feeling like shit, thinking I am shit, doing shit - i.e. nothing, when I could put on my boots and walk. No more wii fit, I guess. But Vienna, my love, here I come.