The owner of the Irish Pub presses her bought breasts hard against me in the tightest hug I’ve had in for as long as I can remember. I haven’t seen her in years and, for sure, she doesn’t remember me…
Author: Puzzle Pieces
A whiter shade of white
The paint roller leaves an unmistakable wet white line over the already white wall. Feeling like I’m being attacked by my own presumptuousness, I am forced to realise that the wall was not actually white, but stained, yellowed and dirty.…
Goodbye, so soon
“…and so ends the short undistinguished career of Puzzle Pieces of Bremen” Time is a fascinating thing. No matter what you do, it keeps on ticking. And so the time I’m here in Bremen is ticking its final tocks. With…
The soul of the lifeless: adventures in Gdańsk
“The water’s not very clean,” I tell him while mentally visualising the semi-fluid soup of chemicals and goo that I just moments ago rejected for a dip. He looks at me, like he always does, challenged and ignited, and says…
The beating of a human heart
Strangers on a bus become the best of friends, neighbours become lovers, and the person in front of you at this precise moment might come to share their deepest secrets with you should you give them the chance. Through some…
Reflections
The butts of two ducks turn into the protruding eyes of a crocodile as I find my peace at a lake. Water is such a remarkable material. Around us the ground bends and curves to account for the residue of…
Pandemic ⇾ Meditation + workaholism
For the first time in very long, I overslept. Waking half an hour too late, I sat up in not a panic, but with the guilty realisation that I probably needed that extra moment of mindless bliss. It’s been a…
Searching for sense in sensory deprivation
In the air, the smell of orange zest, cedarwood and cashews forms out of nothing but my own appetite. It’s not a real smell. It’s not an escaped soul of some combination of ingredients I have spread out in front…
No man is an island
Yesterday I was on my second ever Tinder date. My date this time was a married woman (no one’s perfect! 😉) and since there was no romantic potential in this encounter I’d say this date went significantly better than my…
A stranger arrived in Bremen, a stranger remains.
It is both the strength and the weakness of the written word that it exists in all times succedent when the thoughts that produced the text exists only in that one moment. It is the sickly sweet smell of marijuana…