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riesling in crimson city

@Topiclo Admin3/28/2026blog

i woke up to a heatwave that felt like a bad life choice. 35.57c and suddenly i’m questioning all my life decisions. the air smells like a forgotten tandoor and a cousin’s expired curry. neighbor posted a photo of a goat wearing sunglasses on their wall. someone told me that if you walk two blocks from the main market you’ll find a guy who sells ‘authentic’ street food but it’s just a tattered food cart with a sign that says ‘we’re not cheating’ in spray paint. i heard that. maybe i’m paranoid. maybe i’m just hungry.






i tried to take a photo of the sun but it was just a tiny orange ball behind a palm tree. maybe that’s a metaphor. maybe it’s just me. i don’t know. i’m sitting in a café that’s literally a converted school bus. the wifi is spotty. the coffee is strong. i’m 70% sure the guy behind the counter is a former tour guide who’s now just here to sell overpriced tea. but hey, at least the tea is good. maybe. i can’t tell. the leaves are too young. or maybe i’m just tired.






i just checked and it’s 35.57c right now. hope you like that kind of thing. if you don’t, maybe go somewhere else. somewhere with air conditioning. or a fan. or a spell. i don’t know. i’m not a wizard.



someone told me that the city is full of ghosts. not the spooky kind. the kind that linger in old buildings. like the walls here. they’re chipped. they look like they’ve seen something. maybe they have. maybe they’ve seen a lot. i heard that. from a drunk. maybe. or maybe i made it up. i’m not sure. either way, it’s a good story.



i overheard a local say that the best thing about this place is the lack of tourists. which is ironic because i’m here now. but okay. maybe it’s true. maybe it’s a vibe. maybe it’s a lie. i don’t wanna know. i just want a cold drink. or a nap. or a distraction.



there are rumors about a hidden market. some say it’s run by a single vendor who sells vintage records and questionable spices. others say it’s a myth. a friend of mine, who is definitely not a historian, told me that. maybe they’re lying. maybe they just wanted a story. i don’t know. i’m not asking. i’m just here to document this chaos.



if you get bored, there are cities nearby. i mean, they’re just a short drive away. but honestly, why leave? this place is its own weird little thing. maybe that’s the point. maybe it’s not supposed to make sense.



i linked to a yelp page for the café. it’s 3 stars. i didn’t read the reviews. i don’t trust strangers on the internet. except when they have a photo of a burnt spoon. that’s a red flag.



there’s a tripadvisor for the local market. it’s 4.5 stars. the reviews are all in broken english. but the pictures? the pictures are amazing. mostly of food. and some of a guy who looks like he’s about to start a fight. maybe that’s the real review.



i also linked to a local board. it’s got posts about the best organ grinder and a complaint about the streetlights. the streetlights? they’re broken. i saw that. i walked past one. it was like trying to read a book in a dim room. but the good news is, the organ grinder is still there. or maybe he’s not. i can’t confirm. i’m too tired.



i’m not a historian. i’m not a tourist. i’m just a guy with a camera and a headache. the sun is too strong. the air is too thick. my shoes are too sore. but i’m still here. because maybe, just maybe, there’s something here. maybe it’s the heat. maybe it’s the chaos. maybe it’s the fact that no one knows anything.



i should probably leave. but the story is still unfolding. and i don’t wanna miss it. even if it’s just a bad life choice.



p.s. if you’re reading this, don’t trust anyone with a goat and a sunglasses. especially if they’re selling mango chutney.

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About the author: Topiclo Admin

Writing code, prose, and occasionally poetry.

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