Lelucho

In the beginning was the word, and the word was sound. A high pitch yelp of a sound. And there I was: confused, wet, and upset, lacking the lexis to diagnose my own perplexis. Should be a wonderful feeling really…no debts, no work, no mouth to feed, or drugs to hide, but all I could do was senselessly howl away. There I lay gaping, nakedly…with a burning desire for home grown dairy. My Strings of wicked symphonies were loud and durable, with the volume to blow out a sailor’s diaphragm, but my mother bravely endured. 6 years after slugging my way through german schools, my parents told me we were moving to the Land of Opportunities: America. Instead we moved to a town of roughly 200 residents…203 of which were cows. When I reached the golden age of 18, I packed my bags and ran to LA where I’ve been living ever since as just another soul selling pigeon, nibbling on the prospect of fame and fortune. Five months ago I moved to Germany to travel throughout Europe with plans to dip into a bit of culture and lick my wounds of ignorance…and maybe eat a bit of chocolate on the way...