Pathetic In Dresden

(Back to logging my European trip. NOTE: I am changing course by jumping ahead to my stay in Dresden, It's not sweet. I'll return to Berlin next time.)

After parting from Sascha and Norman, the rest of my one night in Dresden was spent alone laughing and talking at myself in the Mondpalast Hostel , plugged to a laptop spinning out Dresden Dolls, wondering if it was the passion of love or passion of loss that brought me to this awesome, yet pathetic place in time. All I could do this night was exit my body and ask myself the following:

What about this deep red curtain? The winding snake on the wall? The drink in your hand? Could it be disturbing that you are here on a cold rainy November night, with Hydra circling your head, facing a blood-red curtain in a funky Dresden hostel on Louisenstrasse, drinking a Brandenburger dunkler bock?

What is this trip really about? Is it about the fear of facing the unknown, the unfamiliar, of facing yourself and the curtain that divides knowledge from imagination?

What's on the other side of that red curtain? Why does Hydra hiss at you that way?
Wait! Can you hear her? "….. Shhh!" She says, "….. lissssten to your heart, lissssten to your mind. Do not divide so much your heart from your head. Why do you lead your life with the passion of an emotional reptile....ssshhh....feel less and keep your head dear girl."

The red curtain, the iron veil, the hissing red tongue, the red hot blood of Hydra's severed heads. Are you not tired of the Herculean blows? More at odds with yourself than anything else... ha ha... hiss... hiss.

Where was the Dresden friend who could have shown me around this dirty pit of a city? He would have pointed out the beauty I was missing: maybe at the train station; the wonderful bike trail along the bank of the Elbe; the bridges; the Opera House; in the clean Alstadt with the scary crows and the refurbished history. But that has all been tainted somehow. I must return someday under different circumstances.