On a cold April morning, a young stoner wakes up on the third floor of the flying Pig Hostel in the middle of Amsterdam's Old City. He's more experinced with european travel than his friends who are too tired and weak willed to rise with the sun, but he knows how limited his time is in this, the most unique of cities. Its cold and wet out and the lad knows that the only coffee shop open at 8 am in the area was the Pink Floyd in Jordaan.
A ten Euro bag of mother's finest and a two euro coffee and I was glued to the bar stool, hunched over....totally outside of reality.
When I was a child, I had a feeling
my hands felt just like two balloons
now I got that feeling once again...
A ten Euro bag of mother's finest and a two euro coffee and I was glued to the bar stool, hunched over....totally outside of reality.
When I was a child, I had a feeling
my hands felt just like two balloons
now I got that feeling once again...