Wet Shoes + Automatic Painting – VIDEO
“A man is arrested and taken to the police station. They tie him to a chair and blindfold him. Then the sargent gets a jug and begins to pour water into the man’s shoes…”
“A man is arrested and taken to the police station. They tie him to a chair and blindfold him. Then the sargent gets a jug and begins to pour water into the man’s shoes…”
The Scots in our group are tickled pink I brought a slab of Edinburgh beer to a Czeck wine festival…
On the road, south of Prague.
I get my first ever fine from the cops for hitchhiking, and I try a local eatable…
I’ll be in India soon.
I’m preparing myself by asking anyone I meet: have you been to India? If they have, I interrogate them…
There was a really cute couple doing their wedding photos. I congratulated them and slapped beers in their hands. I think they thought I was some sort of nut but I managed to explain I am Australian, and that seemed to resolve the matter for them…
He’s an old guy. What am I going to do? I think about going ahead of him, but it seems childish, and I can picture us trying to one up each other for hours, going further and further up the road…
This town is really beautiful. Cobbled streets, towering castle battlements, and a fast flowing river lined with trees flowing through and around the citadel…
All my Czech friends are always banging on about how beautiful it is, and they weren’t exaggerating. I find a little mossy clearing on the bank of the lake to pitch my tent. Green leafy shrubbery, cool water, shady trees and warm sun…
“I see” Mohammed says, thoughtfully. “So you are not worried about hitchhiking… What is it that you worry about?” “Oh, you know, just the usual stuff. Existential dread. Dieing alone. Cancer. Boredom. Compared to stuff like that hitchhiking is a breeze…”
Pietro opens his front door with a smile, and I collapse onto his couch. The hitch from London to Paris went very well, but I have only slept about 2 hours in the last 24…
The first thing I observe about Calais is that it is raining hard.
The second thing I notice is the miserable looking refugee camps that stretch for miles along the shore, surrounded by barbed wire fences…
“Are you up for it mate?” “Of course” he snears, his juggler pride offended. “We have had only six beers. I will juggle. I will juggle any way you like. Let us make this interesting. I will juggle, J.U.I., and what is more, I will juggle cans of IPA, and I will do it on the roof…”