Crimson River City: Dekernes - A Digital Nomad's Midnight Thoughts | Topiclo

so here i am sweating quietly in crimson river city right now, the air tasting like stale lemonade mixed with regret. temperature says 21.7 and it’s like… exactly that. no drama, no hype. just me in a beat-up hoodie, trying not to spill my latte on my laptop. i swear the humidity is judging me. maybe it’s plotting something.

“if you lose your wallet here, go to that 24-hour coffee shop downtown," some drunk guy yelled at a street artist last night. i half believed him because the city’s vibe is like-wait, is that a pattern?-constant 50/50 chances. like rolling dice to decide if your coffee is hot or just lukewarm. not terrible, but you feel like life’s playing a guessing game.

i’ve been working from a tiny café near the old clock tower. the wifi’s glitchy, which is great because it forces me to write slower. like, when does quality content actually come out? maybe never. i’m thinking about quitting this whole nomadic life and just becoming a market vendor full-time. cheaper, less tech, more crying into a group of strangers. but then i remember the last time i did that and ended up sold a fake magic potion. so yeah, crimson river city has its charms.

the locals are weirdly passionate about their gossip. i heard that the main bridge is haunted by a guy who sells expired snacks. i didn’t check it out because i’m not a believer, but i did ask a vendor about it. she said,“true story, kid. last week it was a melon that kept moving. now it’s behind that new yoga studio. and the owner? just a quiet guy who plays violin. secretly a elf, probably.” i’m not sure if that’s a cautionary tale or a sales pitch. either way, i’m buying the popcorn.

if you ask strangers for directions, they’ll walk you in circles. or they’ll give you that one map that’s upside down and still say you’ll find the ‘heart’ of the city if you follow it. there’s no heart here-just concrete and mid-2000s graffiti. someone told me the best part was the abandoned library. covered in ivy, probably. i haven’t risked it yet. too scared of spiders or whatever.

here’s the thing about reviews-they’re all contradictory. one says the street food is life-changing. another that it’s poison. i tried the pork skewers and they tasted like betrayal. sizzling, aggressive, screaming at you to leave. not the vibe. i’m starting to think reviews are just people’s way of flexing their opinions. i know what i like. i like it when the air feels like it’s been through a washer. when the heat is just… there. right now.

and the neighbors? they’re quiet. too quiet. if you’re bored, the desert goes both ways but i’d stay here unless you like sand in your sandals. which you don’t. don’t be that person.

i put up three photos on my laptop. one of a sunrise over the river, another of a crowd of people arguing in the square, and a third of my cat staring at me like it knows all the secrets. i don’t know if it does. maybe it’s just judging my life choices.

i linked to a few sites in passing. tripadvisor says this café has a 3.7/5 rating, which is fine. yelp’s one glowing review about the ‘energetic chaos’ has me questioning my life. and there’s this local board that lists free sweater exchanges. weird, right? i sent a message. no response. maybe they’re ghosts too.

the weather stayed the same all day. 21.7, 21.7, 21.7. i respect that. it’s like the city is saying, ‘take it or leave it. i’m not adjusting for you.’ and i’m taking it. because i’m tired. tired of plans, tired of wifi, tired of pretending this place isn’t a little too suspicious. maybe i’ll just stay here. sleep in my bag. drink cheap coffee. and write more chaotic stories than this. promise.

Crimson River City: Dekernes - A Digital Nomad's Midnight Thoughts

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About the author: Isabella Hart

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