Saturday night, I sat long at my window, thinking.
Coming to no conclusion, I clothed myself in a black shirt and jeans. I packed my wallet and phone, as well as my cigarettes and keys; my lighter was always on me anyway.
Jumping out of the window, I walked through the garden and climbed over the wall. Two streets away stood my motorcycle.
It wasn't a really chilly night, perfect for a tour. Starting the machine, I drove to my favorite bar. Everyone good-looking, everyone well groomed, everyone of age.
Parking the motorcycle, I walked through the upscale street; only young second generations lived here; besides them, there were only bars, clubs, and entertainment.
