Sitting at the Magical Sill...
Hello All,
Writing from Poznan, leaving within the hour for the long slog to Praha. We've decamped at the apartment of the grandmother of Sickboy's friend Halszka, a spunky and sharp Polish-Australian gal with a secret wi-fi divining rod located atop a stack of books on a window ledge overlooking the empty street below... Another successful foray into improvisatory madness last night at Rozbrat; although we arrived late (the roads between Warszawa and Poznan are insanely godforsaken), our host Artur was a model of graciousness and hospitality, and the assembled audience drank everything in and asked for thirds. I love Poland! Apart from their dire highway system (and the foul, anti-Semitic graffiti we frequently witnessed along the road from Łódź to Poznan), I dig the place far more than I ever realized... All of us (save, appropriately, for Sickboy) suffer from the effects of various flu remnants, but spirits are nonetheless high. Time to get moving!
Best,
Tom
Writing from Poznan, leaving within the hour for the long slog to Praha. We've decamped at the apartment of the grandmother of Sickboy's friend Halszka, a spunky and sharp Polish-Australian gal with a secret wi-fi divining rod located atop a stack of books on a window ledge overlooking the empty street below... Another successful foray into improvisatory madness last night at Rozbrat; although we arrived late (the roads between Warszawa and Poznan are insanely godforsaken), our host Artur was a model of graciousness and hospitality, and the assembled audience drank everything in and asked for thirds. I love Poland! Apart from their dire highway system (and the foul, anti-Semitic graffiti we frequently witnessed along the road from Łódź to Poznan), I dig the place far more than I ever realized... All of us (save, appropriately, for Sickboy) suffer from the effects of various flu remnants, but spirits are nonetheless high. Time to get moving!
Best,
Tom
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