Vienna, Austria

It was a morning when my hands really needed their pockets. The first snaps of winter look pretty but they sting the bone.

It’s the traffic I always wonder about. Those microcosms on wheels. There’s a world behind every windshield. Sometimes, I’d just like to step in.

Would the backseat feel small? Cloth cushions and the cold clang of the belt. I wouldn’t need to talk, just sway side to side as the road winds away. Looking left and right. And out. To better see what’s within.


The Russian Pastry in Vienna

Budapest, Hungary