Dispatch / On My First Night Solo Camping

I couldn’t physically keep the poles arched while also poking them into the ground.

Dispatch / On Hitchhiking to Heaven With a Blood Sausage

He wanted to drink beer; I fancied hitchhiking to heaven with a blood sausage, so we headed to Brauerei Schumacher.

Dispatch / On Random Encounters

Given I often sleep in random people’s homes, I was slightly taken-aback yet honoured that my presence had such intrinsic value for the host.

Dispatch / On Blood-Stained Boots

What if I never find another boot that inspires me to write nigh on 1000 words in one sitting? Is that even healthy? How much pain is too much pain?

Dispatch / On Crashing A Bachelor Party

And it is why I found myself in a club at 3 am with 15 German guys, none of whose name I knew, existentialist philosophy book in hand, talking about Hitler’s birthday.

Dispatch / On Starbucks As “Home”

“What it sounds like,” he started, “is that Starbucks is your current home.”