Berlin- a landing pad made of late nights for lost children.
Experiences aren’t neat and linear like in a story book, but thick and multi-layered, with different narratives all happening simultaneaously to every place you’ve been to and every person you’ve ever known. And when you rejoin that person or city, you pick up where you left off.
Snow fell quietly over the city, covering grey with white, making dirty steps and cars and traffic lights look romantic.
Berlin can be hard, because it’s so easy. You can eat and drink and live off a 5 euro bill for days, so you do. The highs are so high, the lows are so low. And last time I was here, things got pretty low.
Expecting dark feelings of being a lost child to regenerate, I watched a dark cloud come closer to me like a tide. I braced myself. As soon as the darkness washed over me, the cloud continued onward, leaving me feeling fine. The buildings, the smells, the public displays of drunkeness were the same, but I was different.
I’m happy now.
“When you’re happy and you don’t know it…”
The room had bare white walls, full of chairs pointing forward, like quiet attentive pupils.
A tiny mixer, a tiny room that quickly filled up beyond capacity.
Familiar faces stood out to me like winking stars in a black sky.
Oh how I missed you!
Wonderful, receptive, beautiful friends of Berlin.