I was browsing (somewhere in Warsaw) through the business section of an outdated newspaper and a historic drop of the Nikkei seemed the most interesting thing that happened to me that evening. A few hours earlier I had started somewhere in the well-lit, presentable city centre in search of God knows what and after finding nothing I ended up in one of those obscure bars in one of those obscure residential parts of Warsaw that for some smoke-obscured* reason always fill me with hope of a thrilling, eventful future. I should have begun contemplating going back home, but wasn't ready yet to give up on the hope, so I ordered another pint. It didn't bring about any thrills or events, but made the aesthetically unappealing surroundings a better place. Alcohol is such a reliable ornament that after the first gulp (of the last pint) the horrible choice of pictures on the walls started to look intriguing, if not happy, and the tacky tables assumed a sophisticated modernist air. I put down the gripping old story about chronically failing Japanese economy and lit up a cigarette, one of those I'd quit a week or so earlier and through the smoke I noticed someone beautiful sitting at a table across the room. Either because of the grey mist around me or a general, city-induced confusion I couldn't for the life of me tell whether it was a woman, a demon or just an angel.
*probably doesn't work, but I'll leave it as it is for the time being.
(Illustration: I'm sorry I've lost the author, but one day I'll find her, I will...)
