i come across the masked Turkish boy twice. the second time he sees me, i am already on my way back, defeated in my search. he tells me about the change in hours. i thought it was 11 pm; he tells me it is 10 pm. so i try once more to look for the adress.
with a touch of the pen; filling in the blurry parts; i go over the night of looking for her
the street lamps are actually spacecrafts, watching over us, making sure: alles gut