Café Central

Café Central was the metaphysical home of the European intelligentsia—

a physical idea, containing the wrath of untamed, contagious

conversations—a smoke-filled room of immorality and social decay—

unsavory, yet sweet—a toast to aesthetic decadence—watching the

leaves fall.

Here—“the individual is always defeated in the end”—naiveté remains a

death wish—“a capsule—private—minimal—round”—“dialects a kind of

false teeth”—where “proof destroys even the truest things”.

In Café Central—we find the leading survivors of the Austro-Hungarian

empire—“this cesspool of vice—where nothing was right anymore—where

people lay in bed until noon, or else were aesthetics—only chattering

about books”—