Perfect

It’s one of those rare evenings when things seem so perfect I can hardly believe it. There I was, curled up under a warm blanket, drinking ginger tea, the happiest man in the world. And then, browsing the net randomly, I came upon a music store selling rare post rock LPs for bargain prices. I checked the address.

Wrocław. Literally two blocks away from my house.

I’m living a fucking dream.