iben,

the gig fell through. the nature doc people said my sound was "too human" which apparently is now a note. i don't know what to do with that. i took the headphones off and just sat on the floor for an hour. the tattoo parlour downstairs was doing a long one — i could feel the needle humming through the boards, like a tiny drill in a distant country.

it's that soft light out on istedgade tonight. the new lamp-posts do this slow amber fade when there's nobody around, it's meant to save power but it just makes the street look like it's remembering something. a kid went past on one of those balance-assist bikes, singing. she didn't know anyone was listening. i recorded it. i always record it.

i miss your kitchen. i miss arguing about reverb at 2am. my sublet smells like turpentine and whoever lived here before cried a lot into the curtains, i think.

berlin treating you ok? send me a field recording. something ugly. i need something ugly to edit.

love you. rent's due monday.

n

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